The Apocalyptic Presumptions
by RJ1013
Summary: After Amy receives unfortunate news, her life continues to unravel. As she navigates through the rough spots, Sheldon faces trials of his own. Shamy. Spoilers only up to 9.01. Drama/Romance/Adventure/Suspense
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Apocalyptic Presumptions

Author: RJ1013

Summary: After Amy receives unfortunate news, her life continues to unravel. As she navigates through the rough spots, Sheldon faces trials of his own.

Shamy. Drama/Romance/Adventure/Suspense

Rating: M

Spoilers: Up to and including 9.01. We begin in the days before the season 8 finale and diverge after 9.01.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, certainly nothing from TBBT.

Notes:

Many, many thanks to QBMaja for beta reading every single chapter in this story! Her comments helped me tidy the timelines, fix logical errors, expand on the ambiguous bits, and most importantly, keep these characters in line.

This story is fully written, and new chapters will go up 3-4 times a week as I give them a final edit.

* * *

CHAPTER 1

* * *

May 4, 2015

Amy scoffs as she scans the information intake form for her annual gynecological exam. Could they possibly think of more personal questions to ask that she doesn't want to answer?

She ticks through the boxes of her medical history as well as that of her immediate family members. Her paternal side is left blank, as it always is. It's never been her favorite thing to have to explain, but it's far from being the sorest spot that these questions pick at.

The level of invasiveness seems to increase as she works her way down the page. Employment information is easy enough, but then Amy writes down 'no one' next to the question of who she lives with. Never been married. No kids. She does get to write down Sheldon as her significant other, though. While her drug history is non-existent, Amy feels oddly proud to fill in her alcohol usage. Thanks be to Penny, at least something on here won't be pathetic.

Her pride is short lived, however, when she gets down to the questions about sexual history. For number of current sexual partners, Amy writes the number '0'. When she gets to 'age of first sexual activity', Amy grips the pen more firmly and scribbles, 'still waiting'. In a brief snit of immaturity, she crosses out the question about the number of lifetime sexual partners altogether.

Next comes prescription information. Amy writes down her seasonal allergy medicine and her multivitamin. She leaves the space next to the birth control question empty, though she is sorely tempted to write 'why bother?'.

Objectively speaking, Amy knows that gathering her history is important for appropriate medical care. Subjectively speaking, she wants to tell them exactly where they can shove this stupid form—and to do so in great anatomical detail.

Amy fans her warming face before tossing the clipboard onto the nearby chair. She shouldn't feel so hot, given that she is only wrapped in a thin hospital gown. Her feet dangle off the end of the examination table, and she tries not to think about the impending pap smear. Hell, maybe she should just be happy that someone wants to put something into her vagina.

Frustrated with her own poor attitude, Amy scrubs her hands down her face. She didn't used to be like this. Never before has she experienced this constant barrage of negative feelings. It isn't Sheldon's fault that he hasn't been ready to progress their relationship. She has always known how he is. Lately, however, she has felt the final threads of her patience wearing thin.

It's not even just with Sheldon. Her moods have been all over the place. When dealing with colleagues at work, she has had almost no tolerance for incompetence. She can barely speak to her mother civilly for five minutes at a time. Even Bernadette and Penny have seemed to notice a change in her.

She wishes that this was the only thing wrong. Unfortunately, other symptoms have been present for some time. Along with her irritable moods, she has also experienced irregular periods, hot flashes, and night sweats.

Like playing _Clue_ with only two suspects, the scope of this mystery is not wide. She's too smart to be able to lie to herself about it. Her time is running out. If Sheldon hopes to someday gift humanity with his progeny, then it will almost certainly not be with her.

* * *

—

* * *

After twenty years of practicing obstetrics and gynecology, Dr. Robert Welch is no stranger to giving patients bad news. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and knocks on the door for his 1:00.

"Come in," answers a flat voice from the other side.

He pulls back the curtain and holds out his hand in greeting. "Good afternoon, Miss Fowler. Or I suppose I should say Dr. Fowler."

The young woman offers a stilted smile as she returns the handshake. "You have performed both breast and pelvic exams on me for many years now. That's more than I can say for any other man. You've more than earned the right to address me on a first name basis. Amy is fine."

Her voice is brusque and businesslike, but that isn't unusual for this patient. Her extreme level of oversharing is not unusual either.

"Of course. Amy it is." He clears his throat before continuing, "Perhaps we should begin with your exam."

"No," she interjects. Her harsh tone softens into something that sounds more like a plea when she adds, "First, I want to know the results."

Typically, Dr. Welch prefers to go over these matters in his office after a patient has gotten dressed. They always seem so vulnerable when wearing nothing more than a hospital gown. Her initial stony facade is starting to crumble, and Amy sits before him now looking small and sad, hugging herself with her arms wrapped around her midsection. Having spoken with Amy on a prior visit, he knows that she already suspects what the results will be.

"Well, as you'll recall, we did a full panel of the hormone levels in your blood three months ago, but the results were diagnostically inconclusive. It did, however, provide us with a baseline for comparison."

Most patients aren't as proactive as Dr. Fowler. When her symptoms did not abate, she called ahead and requested a subsequent series of blood tests all on her own. He would compliment her on taking this initiative, but he sees that she is staring at her knees, absentmindedly picking at a small hole in the vinyl covering the table, and he knows that it wouldn't help.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that the trend inherent in these new levels indicates a high likelihood of premature ovarian aging."

She does not respond verbally, but he sees a brief, half-hearted nod of acknowledgement.

"From our previous discussions, I know that this was already a suspicion of yours. I wish that I had better news."

He also wishes that she would say something, anything at all, so that he would know how to direct the conversation. Everyone reacts to bad news a bit differently, and it's difficult to know what he should say with no feedback from her. With nothing to go on, he decides that he might as well go over the technical details. As a fellow scientist, she will surely appreciate the hard facts.

"Your FSH levels remain elevated, and your estradiol levels low. In conjunction with your continuing irregular menses, the probability of this diagnosis being correct is quite high. At this time your FSH levels do not quite cross the threshold into complete ovarian failure, but this condition is likely to progress to that point quite soon."

Finally, he hears her speak, and she asks him the most impossible question of all. "Why is this happening?"

"Well, the good news is that your karyotype came back normal. You have no chromosomal defects whatsoever. You also tested negative for fragile X syndrome. Sometimes chemotherapy or radiation can cause this condition, but obviously neither are relevant in this case. I'm afraid the simple truth of the matter is that more often than not, we don't know what causes it."

She sighs. "What are my options now? I am well aware that there is no way to reverse this process."

"The primary consequence is, of course, infertility. It may be possible for you to become pregnant, but the probability will continue to decrease very quickly. If you and your significant other are considering having children, then I will refer you to a reproductive endocrinologist. IVF is still a viable option, but you will need to decide sooner rather than later, assuming that you wish to try to harvest your own ova."

He sees Amy's eyes widen at being faced with a decision of this magnitude. "I've always considered having children, but right now? I… I'm not ready for that. And Sheldon? He definitely isn't."

"I understand. I just want to be clear that time is of the essence. If your significant other is not amenable, there is always the option of donor sperm. If it is a question of pregnancy timing, then the two of you may opt to simply freeze embryos and go through the implantation process at a later date. And donor eggs may also be worth considering. A specialist will be able to tell you more. I'll fill out a referral form for you before you leave."

That seems to reassure her a bit, so he moves on to other matters. "Aside from infertility, secondary symptoms like hot flashes, mood swings, and potential bone loss are significant concerns. Estrogen therapy is a good option, and I recommend that you continue to take calcium and vitamin D supplements. Some women also find that they have a decrease in libido—"

"What use do I have for a sex drive anyway?" she interjects, the words coming out sharp and bitter.

Robert spends enough time around hormonal women that he isn't foolish enough to try to answer her. He is speechless for a moment before he decides how best to continue.

"It's normal to go through a grieving process for something like this. If you'd like to reschedule today's routine exam, that's fine."

She sniffles, but her voice sounds determined when she answers, "No. We might as well be done with it."

He nods and gestures for her to lie down. "Okay. Let's begin with the breast exam."

She lies back, and he shifts her gown aside. It's never awkward to do this procedure after so many years, but it is becoming uncomfortable right now. As close to her face as he is, he can't help but notice the first tears that fall from the corners of her eyes. During most procedures of this sort, he tries to distract a patient with some aimless chatter about local news, their job, or the weather. In the face of her obvious distress, however, he knows that doing so would be inappropriate.

He professionally goes about his routine, but as she sits back up after the pap smear and pelvic exam, he feels compelled to speak to her one last time. "I really am very sorry, Amy."

He sees her wipe the twin tear tracts from her face and fail at trying to keep her lower lip from quivering. She sounds incredibly lost when she answers him, "So am I."

* * *

—

* * *

Sheldon expects nothing but great things from the month of May. _Game of Thrones_ season five is in full swing, _The Avengers: Age of Ultron_ has just premiered, and every day gets him one day closer to the _Star Wars: Episode VII_ release date.

There is, of course, no better way to start the month of May than by celebrating May the fourth. It should be even more exciting than usual with the impending new addition to the franchise.

Sheldon smiles to himself as he sets out the silverware for this evening's party. He has labeled the box helpfully: 'use the forks.' Howard is supposed to bring Yoda soda, whatever that is. Raj is set to bring chocolate covered pretzels that look like little light sabers. Leonard volunteered to make Wookie cookies. Hopefully, Penny will not have eaten them all in advance.

He wonders what Amy will contribute this year. She hasn't told him her plan in advance, but the Death Star cake that she and Bernadette constructed last year was an absolute masterpiece.

Thoughts of Amy remind him of their upcoming anniversary, which is also occurring later this month. After a careful series of negotiations, Sheldon has amended the relationship agreement to allow for a 'make-out session' on that special day. Kissing on the couch will commence, accompanied by touching limited to the arms and lower legs. Ample space between torsos, of course. Amy had lobbied for less restrictions and greater spontaneity, but Sheldon filibustered. Everything is better when it is carefully planned. They aren't hippies, after all.

He still isn't sure of what he has gotten himself into, but Amy seems to be pleased with the general idea. Their anniversary date might also be a good time to broach the subject of long term commitment. The ring in his desk drawer continues to weigh on his mind. He knows that he wants her to wear it some day, but he's not sure he's ready for everything that a marriage would entail just yet. There's no one else whose opinion he trusts more than Amy's. Maybe he can think of a way to find out how she feels about the idea without actually proposing.

A knock on the front door interrupts his musings. Leonard is back in his bedroom, and it can't be Penny because he knows that she would barge in unannounced. He swings open the door to reveal Howard and Bernadette. Howard holds up a bottle labeled 'Yoda Soda', but it just looks like Mountain Dew to Sheldon.

"Be with you, May the fourth," Howard greets in his Yoda voice.

Bernadette rolls her eyes and barks, "Get out of the way Howard, I want to put down these cocktail weenies."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Those aren't cocktail weenies, they're Jar Jar Links," Howard whines.

Bernadette doesn't continue the exchange, but instead marches over to the kitchen to deposit her load.

"I thought we agreed to never, ever mention… you-know-who," Sheldon chastises Howard. Surely he hasn't forgotten Sheldon's many rants on the subject of Jar Jar Binks. "That ridiculous character has already blemished the franchise enough, don't you think?"

Howard shrugs. "What can I say? Bernadette really has a hankering for those little mini hot dogs. And when your woman demands weenie, you don't turn her down. Well, I don't, anyway."

"Yeah, we all know how Bernadette loves tiny versions of things," Penny slurs from just inside the front door, having arrived in the midst of the conversation. She pats Howard on the head.

For some reason, both Howard and Bernadette look a bit angry. "Are you drunk already?" Bernadette growls.

"I'm here for a Star Wars movie marathon. That's six sci-fi movies that will have intermissions filled with Sheldon commentary. It calls for a little pre-gaming, don't you think?"

Any further discourse is interrupted by Raj and Emily tapping on the open front door.

"Mini light sabers!" Raj announces, sounding proud of his contribution.

"Ooh!" Penny exclaims, snagging one right off his carefully arranged plate. Sheldon hopes that she won't get crumbs all over the floor.

"And look, Emily had time to make us some Obi-Wan Kabobies," Raj adds.

Sure enough, Sheldon can see through the plastic wrap covering the serving platter she carries. Brightly colored fruit has been cut into cubes and skewered onto long sticks. Sheldon admires the perfect symmetry of the arranged fruit pieces. Her knife skills must be flawless to cut every piece into the same exact size like that.

Penny heads off towards Leonard's room, presumably to gather him for the start of movie number one. Sheldon wrinkles his nose at the trail of pretzel crumbs she leaves in her wake.

He is surprised that Amy hasn't arrived yet. Maybe she has decided to skip out on part of Episode I. He wouldn't blame her, knowing that her distaste for Jar Jar rivals his own. Still, it is unusual for her to be late, and even more so for her to have not made contact to explain her tardiness.

Leonard and Penny reappear from the other room, and everyone takes a moment to fill up their plates with food and their cups with Yoda soda.

As they all settle down to begin the viewing, Leonard turns to him and asks, "Where's Amy?"

Before Sheldon can answer, Bernadette offers an explanation. "Oh, Amy texted that she isn't feeling well. Her message said she is feeling sick to her stomach."

"Lucky girl. If only my own illnesses could be so perfectly timed." Penny's joke sounds half-serious to Sheldon. Perhaps it is sarcasm.

It is peculiar, though. Sheldon didn't hear his phone alert him to any new messages. He wiggles the device out of his pocket and checks the screen, but he doesn't find anything new from Amy.

"She didn't say anything to me. Do you think she's okay?" he asks no one in particular.

"I'm sure she's fine. In fact, an argument could be made that she will be having a better evening than the rest of us," Bernadette answers.

"You could send her a message to check in with her and see how she's doing. If she needs anything, I'll drive you over," Leonard offers.

His roommate sure does have a tendency to state the obvious. Of course Sheldon is going to check on Amy. He turns his attention to the screen and thumbs out a quick query as to the state of her health. Her response comes within seconds, which Sheldon figures is a good sign. A serious stomach virus wouldn't allow time for texting.

Her reply states that she is not feeling well but that she hopes he will still have a great time at the party. Sheldon sets down his phone and picks up the remote control. He skips innumerable previews before the screen lights up blue with the FBI anti-piracy warning. Though Amy's text has set his mind at ease, he would still prefer to have her here with him.

Setting down the remote, Sheldon reaches for his plate of food. He takes a bite of an Obi Wan Kabobie, but the ripe, colorful fruit is somehow not as sweet as he imagined it would be.

* * *

—


	2. Chapter 2

—-

* * *

CHAPTER 2

* * *

A few weeks after her diagnosis, Amy still isn't feeling like herself. She has an initial consultation scheduled with an endocrinologist next month, and with that new doctor's guidance, she hopes to be able to formulate some kind of plan.

Amy strips off her lazy Sunday loungewear and turns the knob to start the shower running. She tries to avoid it, but she catches a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror over the sink. It's so easy to hate herself these days. She takes off her glasses, a process which only serves to remind her of her poor eyesight. Her teeth are straight, but it is only due to the wonders of orthodontia. Her orthopedic shoes are resting out of sight somewhere near her front door, marking yet another failure of her body.

It's no wonder that neither Sheldon nor any other man has sought to plant a seed in her garden. This ovarian issue is only one more piece of the broken puzzle that is her inferior body. She feels like an evolutionary mistake.

Sheldon has spoken on several occasions about his desire to someday rule the world and sire benevolent overlord offspring. She has always shared in this vision, planning to be right there with him, the mother of any such progeny. But now? It's time to start facing the truth that whatever 'homo novus' superiority they have hoped for will never even get a chance to exist.

Amy chides herself for her negativity and tries to shake off the bad feelings as she steps into the shower. Years of bullying and rejection by her peers have given her plenty of practice at dealing with such emotions.

She reminds herself that Sheldon does love her, even despite her many imperfections. Her life is far from terrible, and there are a great deal more good things about her situation than there are bad. She has been blessed with intelligence, an excellent job, good friends, and the very best boyfriend that a girl could wish for. Aside from a few superficial things, her body has served her quite well. At least, it had up until this most recent betrayal.

After a quick lather and rinse of her hair, Amy reaches for the body wash. She exfoliates a bit more intensely than necessary.

She has been unable to make herself tell Sheldon about her condition. In fact, she hasn't even come close to broaching the topic. It is so much harder than she anticipated. She doesn't want to look into his eyes and see how he reacts while she tells him how inferior she really is. Would he look at her with pity? Disgust? Even more disinterest than ever?

Being able to have his children someday had always seemed like one way that he might finally bring himself to fully be with her physically. With that possibility dwindling into nothingness, she finds her long-term hopes dying off with it.

Amy has to admit to herself that she may be projecting her own fears onto Sheldon. It's possible that he wouldn't be fazed by her news at all. He is a loyal, steadfast friend, ever-resistant to change, and he might decide that her news alters nothing. In some ways, though, that only makes things more difficult. She doesn't want him to feel obligated to stay with her or to remain with her simply out of habit.

Amy feels dizzy as her thoughts continue to swirl. She shuts off the stream of water and reaches for a towel to wrap her body in.

The mood shifts have been growing more and more disturbing. She knows that she has to stuff this pessimism away. After all, tonight is their five year anniversary, and Sheldon has agreed to a make-out session. In spite of everything, the thought still makes her smile.

Her previous negativity begins to dissipate as she ponders the upcoming evening. Maybe this will be the moment when Sheldon lets himself go at last. Sure, he has choreographed the entire encounter, and he did argue in favor of extensive restrictions. Still, if he feels anything even remotely approximating what Amy does, then he should find it impossible to remain aloof.

Amy can see the bright flush of pink on her cheeks as she brushes her hair in front of the mirror. Having dated Sheldon for so many years, she reminds herself that it's unwise to hope for much in the way of traditional romance or physical demonstrations of affection. He is not a typical man, so she will only make herself vulnerable to heartbreak if she lets her expectations run too wild. Even so, the promise of a make-out session makes her heart pound with anticipation, and she can't hold back the growing flood of jubilant, wild optimism.

* * *

—-

* * *

Sheldon hopes that Leonard and Penny will finally work up the courage to take the plunge and get married someday soon. Their ongoing indecisiveness is starting to get on his nerves. He's not sure how they can be so unsure of what they want after so many years together. It's truly absurd. And while the idea of Leonard moving out is rather unsettling, he has been experiencing a growing curiosity about what it might be like to have Amy move in.

The oven timer dings, so Sheldon heads over to remove his loaf of bread from the oven. Amy is a big fan of his sourdough recipe, and he hopes that she will look favorably upon the anniversary dinner he has prepared for her as well.

There was a time not too long ago that he would have known what to expect from an evening spent with his delightfully predictable girlfriend. These days, however, he's not so sure. She has been acting a bid odd for the past couple months. It's not like her normal, endearing oddness either, but something altogether different. One minute she seems to worship him as if he is the best boyfriend ever, and rightly so. But in the very next minute, she'll seem unhappy with him for reasons that make no sense to Sheldon whatsoever. Who wouldn't want to receive a mushroom log for Valentine's Day? It is both practical and delicious.

He has tried matching up her unusual behavior patterns to see if any of it fits with her menstrual cycle, but it doesn't seem to line up on his chart. Besides, often the shifts in her mood are far too rapid to have anything to do with a monthly happening. If he's honest with himself, her behavior shifts started not long after he first told her he loved her. Perhaps her ovaries are just inundating her with extra goofy juice.

It's not like he is unaffected by their growing relationship too. In addition to making dinner and acquiring a new dress shirt, he found it necessary to engage in an embarrassing bout of self-abuse this afternoon. It simply wouldn't do for him to allow his baser impulses to rule him this evening.

He has planned it to the last detail, but their impending make-out has him nervous. With any luck, he will get through it without making a fool of himself, and then they can move on to the other important aspects of the evening. As he has done many times today, Sheldon glances to his desk drawer. He isn't ready to propose at this time, but he hopes that he'll get a chance to ask her how she feels about the concept of commitment in a general sense.

At 6:00 pm, he hears her soft, distinctive knock. Much like Gandalf, Amy is never late. Nor is she early. She always arrives precisely when she means to.

After brushing his sweaty palms against his pants, Sheldon walks over and opens the door, revealing the welcome vision of Amy's smiling face. Like him, she is wearing a new outfit for the occasion.

Sheldon wonders if his own grin is as giddy as the one that she gives him. The skin of his cheeks feels stretched, so he supposes that it must be. He decides that a compliment would be appropriate in this spot.

"Punctual as ever, Dr. Farrah Fowler. Is that a new outfit? It's very… pink." It's the best he can think of, but Amy's wrinkled brow indicates that his statement might be lacking in some way.

When she doesn't respond, he adds, "I had a rash on my elbow last week that was almost that exact same shade."

That conversational addition doesn't seem to help, and if anything, her face only scrunches up more. Perhaps asking her a question will shift her attention from whatever he has said wrong. "Was there a sale at Goodwill?"

Amy sighs. She slides off her cardigan and hangs both it and her purse on a hook near the door. Her shoes look new as well, but Sheldon thinks that it might be wise to refrain from further comments about her outfit.

"Actually, yes there was—40% off. I see you've also got a new shirt this evening. Did your mother buy it for you?"

Her voice sounds a little funny, but Sheldon nods. Of course his mother bought it and shipped it to him. How else would he ever acquire the correct garments?

This entire exchange only serves to re-confirm his long held belief that talking about superficial nonsense is a terrible waste of time. He gestures to invite her to sit on the couch. "Can I get you a beverage?"

His compliment went over like a lead balloon, but she gives him a giant smile for this simple question. Women are so weird.

"Tepid water, please," she replies.

Sheldon shrugs. "Are you sure? I've got a bottle of wine that Raj recommended."

Amy's smile fades yet again and her shoulders slump. "Yeah, sure. Maybe something a little stronger would be a good idea."

He heads over to pour her a glass. Wine isn't something that he and Leonard tend to keep on hand because Penny would only drink it all if they tried. He hopes that Amy will enjoy it. It is part of his greater plan to avoid embarrassing himself this evening. If she's a little tipsy, then maybe she won't notice if he turns out to be incompetent when it comes to the art of 'making out'.

His mother taught him that it is rude to let someone drink alone, so he pours himself a glass of milk. Halfway through doing so, he suddenly remembers the first time that Amy referred to tepid water. Oops. His endocrine system must be slowing down his synapses. For what must be the thousandth time in his life, Sheldon wonders why the human mating process must be so ridiculous.

Rather than admit to any kind of mental failing, Sheldon opts to ignore his minor memory lapse. He carries both beverages over to the living room and sets them on the coffee table.

"Thank you," Amy says, and then she drains the entire glass in one long swig. It reminds him, in a disturbing way, of Penny.

Perhaps she is as nervous as he is. Sheldon feels as skittish as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. It's probably not a good idea to point out the weirdness of the situation.

"This is awkward," he blurts out anyway. "We have already agreed to terms. Maybe it would be best if we simply get it over with."

"Get it over with?"

She doesn't look happy, but he can't tell for sure. It seems like she should be pleased. Once again he supposes that she might be a bit nervous too.

"This whole 'make-out' thing is unnerving. And nervousness leads to indigestion. So, yes, I'd prefer to…" he waves his hand between the two of them, struggling to find the right words, "before we have dinner."

Amy's eyes widen, but she gives one quick jerk of her head and says, "Um, okay."

"Very well," he says with a nod of his own.

Sheldon begins by placing his shaky hand on her knee, as specified in their agreement. Amy hesitantly reaches for his shoulder, and they both lean in to kiss.

The first attempt goes awry, their noses bumping together. They break apart, and Sheldon sees her smile at their combined clumsiness. After a brief smile of his own, he reaches for her again and moves his face in at a more optimal angle. This time he succeeds at making contact with her mouth, and he soon finds himself immersed in the soft, warm feeling of her lips against his own.

Unlike most of their kisses, this one goes on for some time. She smells good, like dandruff shampoo and dryer sheets, and even though the material of her jumper feels soft under his fingertips, he suspects that it is nowhere near as soft as the skin that lies underneath it. He traces the rounded shape of her knee, and decides that it definitely isn't as pleasant as the generous curve of her hip would feel. As if under someone else's control, he feels his hand begin to slide up above her knee.

Amy breaks the kiss, jarring Sheldon's mind from its wandering thoughts and his hands from their wayward path. She is rubbing his shoulder with the palm of her hand, an action that is well within the limits of Sheldon's make-out mandate. He wonders if she will chastise him for moving his hand outside of the prescribed zones, but she just smiles and says, "Can you believe it has been five years since our first date?"

Everything has gone so well, and Sheldon doesn't want to ruin it. He tries to stuff any remaining prurient thoughts back into the little corner of his mind where he can control them. He needs to talk to her about something important right now anyway. "I know. Do you think I should start watching _The Flash_ tv show?"

It is, in Sheldon's opinion, one of his greater strokes of relationship brilliance. He takes watching a tv show to be a serious commitment, and he is curious to see if Amy thinks it is worth starting this particular show. More than that, however, he wants to find out how she feels about the concept of commitment. Hopefully, she will hold it in high regard, as he does. He likes the idea of finding out her thoughts on the matter without having any of the emotional mumbo-jumbo of marriage itself clouding the issue.

But somehow she misunderstands. In the midst of her angry words and her even angrier eyes, he tries to explain that he is wrestling with a big commitment issue. It is all so clear to him, but she doesn't seem to hear what he is saying. Somehow everything goes terribly wrong.

* * *

—-

* * *

Amy is feeling lost, but at least she still has her friends. As she sits at Bernadette and Howard's house to watch Leonard and Penny's wedding, she begins to feel less lonely. They are all very understanding, which shouldn't come as a surprise to her. They know what Sheldon is like.

After talking about him for a bit, Sheldon suddenly appears at the window. As if summoned by some supernatural force, his forlorn, ghostly face is an unexpected sight. He reminds her of a sad, abandoned puppy.

She doesn't blame him for being upset, and she understands that the unclear nature of 'taking a break' is driving him crazy. He doesn't deal well with her indecisiveness, and she can't really blame him for being peeved.

All of her sympathy evaporates in an instant, however, when he says the worst thing that she can imagine right now. "Well, you should think fast, because men can sire offspring their entire lives, but those eggs you're toting around have a sell-by date."

He still doesn't know, of course. She hasn't worked up the courage to tell him. Nevertheless, the sharp arrow of his words pierces right through the bullseye of her insecurities. It may be nothing more than words, but the statement still feels like a physical blow. She has to swallow down the bile that wants to creep up her esophagus. Her lunch is threatening to deposit itself onto Howard and Bernadette's carpet.

She can barely focus on his face. A haze of pure rage clouds both her mind and her vision when she manages to force out a response. "You know what, Sheldon? You've made this really easy. You're immature, you're selfish, you just insulted me to my face. I don't need any more time to think. We're broken up."

* * *

—


	3. Chapter 3

—

* * *

CHAPTER 3

* * *

When Leonard picks up Sheldon for work on Tuesday morning, everything seems normal at first. Sheldon is dressed in his everyday attire, spooning oatmeal into his mouth.

Leonard greets him with a gentle voice. "Good morning, buddy."

"Good morning, Leonard. You're two minutes late."

He wonders how Sheldon is handling the fact that Amy has ended their relationship, but he decides not to broach the topic unless Sheldon does so first. Of course Penny is right behind him, and he doubts that she will be quite so tactful.

"He's a newly married man, Sheldon. You're lucky he's only a few minutes late," Penny answers from over Leonard's left shoulder. She lightly pinches his behind, forcing him to stifle a little yelp.

Sheldon is usually oblivious to such things, but Leonard sees him roll his eyes. "If you are going to regale me with tales of a two minute coital performance from your new husband, you most certainly needn't bother. My noise canceling headphones stopped working a few weeks ago. I have heard some of his performances in the interim, and I am not impressed."

Penny opens her mouth, no doubt to offer some kind of retort, but he grips her arm in warning. Something is wrong.

While his roommate is behaving like his normal, difficult self, Leonard is starting to spot a few concerning details. He is wearing gray pants, but gray pants are his Wednesday pants. He is also eating oatmeal, which Leonard knows is a Monday breakfast. Today is Tuesday.

Sheldon's ridiculous schedule has been a source of irritation for almost a decade. It is rare to see him deviate from it, and quite frankly, Leonard finds it disturbing when it happens. "Sheldon, are you okay?" he asks.

"What are you talking about? Of course I'm okay. Well, aside from the fact that we are now…" he points his watch at Leonard and taps the glass face, "three minutes late to leave."

He feels somewhat comforted by the fact that Sheldon is still being obnoxious about punctuality. Nevertheless, he suspects that things are not quite as normal as Sheldon is trying to pretend.

"Sweetie, we just want to make sure that you are doing alright with the Amy situation. We know how difficult breakups can be," says Penny.

"Oh, I see your confusion. You see, Amy and I aren't really broken up. She'll admit that she's wrong before too long. Usually when she's irrationally angry at me, it only lasts for a day or two. I just need to wait for her brain to return from its monthly hormone-addled journey into madness."

Leonard exchanges a wordless glance with Penny. Her voice is very subdued when she begins to explain, "Um, I think you might be underestimating the severity of this. I spoke to her last night, and she didn't sound like her typical self at all. She told me that she is even planning to take some time off of work."

That apparently piques Sheldon's interest, and Leonard sees his friend's arrogant facade waver for the first time. Sheldon stands up, looking uncertain. "Amy doesn't take time off of work. It may only be the biological sciences, but she loves her job anyway. Are they forcing her to take a vacation like they did to me?"

Penny shrugs. "It sounded like she wanted some space from everything in her life for a while. She said she expects to be gone for the next two weeks."

"But where is she going? What is she planning to do? Who is she planning to do it with?" Sheldon is starting to sound frantic.

Leonard tries to placate him. "Calm down, Sheldon. It sounds like it's just a little vacation. If she hasn't had one in years, it will probably be good for her."

"Yeah," Penny agrees, "after five years with you, who wouldn't benefit from some time away?"

* * *

—

* * *

Amy finds herself jerked awake from a deep sleep. She thumbs the button to answer her phone and groggily whispers, "Hello?"

"Where are you going? What are you planning to do? Who are you planning to do it with?" Sheldon's questions reverberate through her still-drowsy consciousness.

She sighs. "Good morning to you too, Sheldon. I see you're confused about how a breakup works."

"Of course I'm confused. How could I possibly not be confused? One minute we are celebrating the past five years that we spent together, and the next, you break up with me to take off to parts unknown. And you don't even have the grace to inform me thusly."

"I was going to call you before I left." That's a lie. At best, she was planning to send him an email. Still, she wasn't planning to leave without telling him.

"And…?"

"And tell you that I'm taking a vacation."

His silence indicates his dissatisfaction with her answer, so she feels compelled to continue, "Look, Sheldon—"

"I'm sorry for whatever I said. Last night, when you got mad at me. And the night before that, when you also got mad at me."

Amy feels taken aback. It is rare for him to apologize for anything.

"You're already forgiven," she assures him, and that much is the truth. For as brightly as her anger had flared, it has burnt out just as fast. At this point Amy feels nothing but resigned about it. There is no reason to stay mad at Sheldon for stating the facts. "Nothing that you said was technically incorrect, just insensitive."

"If I'm forgiven, does that mean that we're back together now?" She doesn't think that she's ever heard his voice sound so vulnerable.

"Sheldon… I can't…" she begins, trying to make herself blurt out what the doctor told her weeks ago. She chickens out for what must be the tenth time. "I'm sorry too. I just need this time."

He is quiet for a moment before he asks, "Are you ever going to tell me why? I don't understand why you want to terminate our relationship."

When she doesn't respond right away, he starts to babble, "I didn't know you hated _The Flash_ so much. Maybe if you tried the comic book instead you would feel differently. The source material is usually much better than the adapted screen versions for things like this."

"It's not the tv show, Sheldon, and I will do my best to explain. Just, um, just not right this second." She can hear his sigh of impatience and has to admit to herself that his request is not at all unreasonable. "During the next two weeks, I will write to you," she promises.

"I could go with you."

Amy's mouth drops open in surprise at the offer. It's difficult to imagine Sheldon taking time away from work for her, or for any reason, really. Composing herself, she clarifies, "I need time alone. Don't you remember taking some time off for yourself last year? Your train trip?"

She only hears a weird little grunt in response, which she supposes counts as an acknowledgement of sorts.

"I'm not running away or anything ridiculous like that. It's nothing more than a vacation." She decides to soften the blow and assuage his curiosity at the same time. It should also take care of any lingering interest he might have in accompanying her. "I'm planning to spend the next few weeks hiking."

"You mean like outside?" He sounds incredulous.

Amy understands why he would find it surprising. When Penny had first suggested the idea, it seemed outrageous to Amy too. Upon further reflection, however, she decided that a change of scenery and routine might be exactly what she needs. It should provide her the opportunity to reflect on her situation without the confusing, overwhelming influence of the man she loves.

"That is the general idea, yes. We live in a beautiful state with an extensive system of hiking trails."

"But Amy, there are bugs out there."

"I'll be fine."

"What about hyperthermia? Hypothermia? Twisted ankles? Broken bones? Snakes? Bunnies? Dehydration? Illness? Starvation?"

Bunnies seem a little out of place on his list of fears, but Amy isn't foolish enough to ask him to explain. Instead, she assures him, "I promise that I'll be careful."

He is silent for a few seconds, long enough that she starts to wonder what he might be thinking about. When he does finally speak, he mumbles, "And you're coming back?"

"Yes, of course. Sheldon, I will be back before you even have the chance to miss me."

* * *

—-

* * *

On Thursday evening, Penny is having a peaceful dinner with Leonard at the kitchen table of 4A.

They decided to share a meal with Sheldon tonight, knowing that it used to be his date night with Amy. In an effort to cheer him up, Penny even suffered the indignity of swinging by The Cheesecake Factory to pick up his favorite bacon cheeseburger. Sheldon took only a few bites before foregoing his food and heading over to his spot on the couch to bury his face in his laptop.

"How do you think he's holding up?" she whispers to Leonard.

"I'm not sure. As you can see, he's been very quiet, which is unusual. Of course, it's also hard to bring myself to complain about it."

Penny nods. The silence is refreshing, but also rather freaky.

Leonard continues, "It feels like it must be seventy-four degrees in here."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Are you kidding? You know as well as I do how strongly Sheldon feels about the ideal ambient temperature of his living quarters. If it's not 72 degrees Fahrenheit in here, then he tends to go batcrap crazy. The fact that he's let it rise by two whole degrees is disturbing in and of itself."

"Oh right. It's hard to keep track of all of Sheldon's little oddities. But whatever. What about Amy? Has he said anything to you?"

"No. The thing is, he keeps claiming to be reading research papers online, but every time I see his screen, he is staring at either Gmail or Facebook."

Penny nods and finishes the last bite of her salad. She carries her glass of wine with her as she marches across the room and plops herself onto the couch next to Sheldon. She leans into his personal space to ensure that she provokes a reaction. "Whatcha' reading about, Shelly?"

He leans back a distance equal to her encroachment and makes a face at her. "I'm reading a paper about condensed matter and complex quantum systems."

She blinks at him a few times and tilts her head. "Really? Because it looks a lot like you're checking up on Amy's social media accounts."

Sheldon turns his laptop screen away and scowls at her. "Fine. I admit that I am concerned. She told me that she would write to me, but she hasn't emailed me yet. Nor has she tweeted or posted a Facebook status update. There's nothing on her Tumblr, Instagram, or Snapchat either."

Penny smirks. "You could see if she pops up on Tinder."

"What's that?"

Leonard shoots her a look and says, "It's a... a dating app, of a sort. And I'm sure that Penny is just kidding."

Penny can see that Sheldon is not amused. She decides to point out the obvious. "Have you considered that maybe Amy doesn't have access to all of this technology right now? I mean, she is out hiking and might not even be able to connect to a network. Or she might be trying not to use her phone because it won't be easy to recharge it."

Sheldon gasps. "Oh, that sounds horrible! I hadn't even considered that. It's positively uncivilized. What if she needs to make contact in case of an emergency? What if she has a nagging question that she wants to Google? How will she be able to search for amusing cat GIFs every morning?"

He always has such an interesting set of concerns. Penny gives him her most sympathetic look. "It's natural to worry about someone that you care about, but Amy is the smartest woman I know. I'm sure that she will be fine. It's not like she won't be able to find help if she needs it."

"Wait a minute. What makes you so sure? Do you know where she went?"

Penny puts all of her old acting skills to the test as she lies right to his face. "No, of course not. But the trails in this area are all quite active, she has her phone for emergencies, and I'm sure that she is taking every precaution."

In reality, she knows exactly which path Amy has chosen to wander because she is the one who suggested the route. It's a popular trail that should be both easy and safe, but she has been sworn to secrecy. Amy is set to meet up with her in two days, and she checks in via text once every evening. Penny won't worry as long as her friend keeps up the contact.

Sheldon narrows his eyes at her. That's okay. She knows that he can't read facial expressions well enough to detect a lie anyway.

As she anticipated, he soon gives up and looks away. "I can't believe that she wouldn't tell me where she is going," he says.

"Did you let her know all about your little train trip? At least she spoke with you before you left."

Sheldon ignores her question, which is about as close as she would expect him to get to acknowledging the similarities. Instead he says, "I just want her to tell me what's going on."

Leonard shrugs. "You know, she probably meant that she's planning to write to you the old-fashioned way. Did you check the actual mail?"

Sheldon leaps up, plops his laptop down, and heads over to his desk. He flips frantically through a thick stack of envelopes and glossy junk mail flyers before flopping the whole pile back down in a sloppy mess. It's unsettling to see him leave something untidy like that. Leonard is right. Sheldon really isn't acting like himself.

"Try to be patient, sweetie. It's only been a few days. The mail will come again tomorrow, and I'm sure you'll hear from her eventually. At worst, you'll see her at the end of the two weeks. Everything will be fine."

Sheldon sits back down in his spot and shifts his attention back to his laptop screen. As he does so, he starts shaking his head. "No. No, absolutely not. This simply won't do at all. Maybe I can find a way to access the GPS location data from her iPhone. Then I could catch up with her on the trail."

He starts typing away on his laptop, ignoring both of them, so Penny walks back over to the kitchen and wraps her arm around Leonard's shoulders. She whispers into his ear, "You don't think that he would actually go out into the California wilderness to try to find her, do you?"

With a soft voice that even Sheldon shouldn't be able to pick up, Leonard replies, "Maybe, but he probably wouldn't get very far. It wouldn't take long before he'd get a blister, stub a toe, or run out of breath from some moderate exercise. There's also the perils of dirt, insects, and wild bunnies."

"What's this about bunnies?" she whispers back.

"Oh, Penny. Whatever you do, please don't ask him."

She glances over to see that Sheldon is still tapping away. Leonard raises his voice to try to reason with him. "Sheldon, this would be a gross invasion of Amy's privacy."

His typing doesn't miss a beat while he responds, "You mean like the way you tracked my phone to locate me at the train station last year?"

Leonard looks chagrined, and he sounds defensive when he stammers, "That's—that's completely different."

That comment only earns Leonard a quick flash of Sheldon's skeptical face before he refocuses his attention to his laptop. Penny doesn't see how it's different either, but she continues trying to convince Sheldon to stop.

"Maybe it's different and maybe it's not, but if you found it intrusive when Leonard did it, then you should know not to do the same thing to Amy. It's wrong to spy on her."

Sheldon's keystrokes pause at last, and he peers over at them with a curious look on his face. "Indeed. But while I'm at it, I should also try to access her ATM history and credit card statements. Maybe she will make a transaction in a nearby town to resupply."

Penny raises her eyebrows. "Oh my God, you can't do that! It's creepy."

Leonard agrees, "She's right. I may have tracked your phone, but I certainly would've drawn the line far before what you're suggesting."

Sheldon's expression shifts into one of confusion, but before long, he shrugs and starts tapping away at his keyboard once again. Annoyed that he isn't listening, Penny insists, "We're being serious. Damn it, Sheldon, that's despicable and downright stalker-ish behavior!"

He freezes and looks back up. She is pleased to see that her words are starting to make an impact.

Sheldon bobs his head a single time with a determined look on his face. "You're right. I should call Howard."

* * *

—

* * *

Notes:

Okay, I don't want to bore you guys with my ramblings every chapter, but I did want to say a quick thank you to everyone for reading, and for those who have felt inclined to review, I enjoy that as well. The story is obviously diverging from canon at this point, and since I started writing it many months ago, it won't resemble season 9 at all.


	4. Chapter 4

—-

* * *

CHAPTER 4

* * *

Weariness that can only come from extreme physical exertion has taken over Amy's body. Done hiking for the day, she has set up her small tent and gone through her pack to pull out a lazy hiker's dinner of a protein bar and trail mix. It's a bad idea to make a fire in the arid dryness of Southern California, but that's fine. A cold dinner and a lukewarm sleeping bag should suffice.

Amy is glad that Penny recommended the Pacific Crest Trail. The scenery is beautiful, and looking out at the vast hills and deep valleys around her has helped to make her own problems seem smaller and less significant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe she can't have the relationship that she wants with the man that she wants, and maybe she will never have children at all, but at least the world is still full of experiences like this.

Beginning in Angeles National Forest, Amy has planned to hike north and west for six days. Regardless of how far she gets, she will then turn around. It seems like the best way that she can think of to make sure that she is back for work on time in two weeks.

At first, she had decided to do this as a bit of a dare to herself. She figured that she was already an evolutionary failure of sorts, so why not throw herself out here and let nature take a more direct shot? Survival of the fittest and all that.

However, as she has dragged herself along for mile after mile, she has found her spirits lifting in spite of herself. Her brain had been running on a constant loop of negative thoughts, but the complete exhaustion that she has been putting her body through doesn't seem to leave enough energy to waste on feeling mental stress. The endorphins released by all of the physical activity tops her list of suspects for the more even keel of her mood. She isn't exactly happy, but she isn't broken either.

After today's long journey, Amy settles down into her makeshift abode and pulls out her notebook and pen. She has started her first letter to Sheldon, and she adds something to it each time she takes a break.

The days of silence have been peaceful, but lonely. The process of writing to him makes her feel a little bit like she has someone to talk to. And unlike a normal conversation with Sheldon, the Sheldon in her head can't talk back. That's both a good thing and a bad thing. His absence allows her to think things through without the distraction of his brilliant mind and alluring body, but on the other hand, she misses his insights, his unintentional humor, and the unique way that he views the world around him.

So far she has been a complete coward in this initial letter. Sheldon has always prided himself on his superior intellect and physicality, and Amy is in full agreement. He truly is a magnificent specimen, but that fact only makes it all the more difficult to talk about the way that her own body has let her down and the way that emotion and desire have come to rule portions of her intellect. While she'd love to be rid of her medical issue, she has no interest in returning to the robotic, distant woman that she used to be. Emotion and desire do complicate things, for sure, but these feelings also give her life meaning, purpose, and fulfillment in a way that academics never could.

Instead of trying to explain some of these things to Sheldon, she has succumbed to the urge to stall. She has written about the scenery and other mundanities, her day-to-day experiences. It will probably drive Sheldon nuts to read it. She even wrote a bit about the geology of the area. It makes her smile to picture him ranting at her for taking an interest in that subject. Hopefully, he will be happy to hear from her even though her letter doesn't contain the answers he requested.

Amy tears out the pages that make up her first letter from her notebook, taking care to keep the edge ripping along the perforated marks. Others might not appreciate this perfectionist tendency, but she knows that Sheldon shares her need for order and tidiness. She folds it into precise thirds before stuffing it into an envelope.

Staring down at a fresh page now, she resolves that in this second letter she will start to tell him the difficult truths. She doesn't feel depressed at this point, but rather resigned to her fate. Nevertheless, it is difficult to make herself reveal these vulnerable parts of herself to Sheldon. Her very own Spock, he isn't all that fond of human emotions. Still, it must be done. She grips the pen with her sweaty hand and forces herself to begin.

 _Sheldon,_

 _I'm sure that you are frustrated by the contents of my first letter. I promised you that I would tell you the reasons behind my choice to end our relationship, but I'm afraid that the courage to do so has eluded me until now._

 _This is very difficult, but first and foremost, I broke up with you to set you free. You have always been very clear about wanting a relationship of the mind. You have been kind enough to placate me with hand holding, hugs, and even kisses, but I know that your heart is not in it in quite the same way that mine is. You see, TV shows aren't the kind of thing that cross my mind when we kiss._

 _Far beyond the physical trivialities, I've wanted us to share a life together. I know that you prefer your life exactly the way it is, and it is your life to live. You are not beholden to me._

 _I have pressured you throughout this entire relationship. I've been blinded by my desire for physical intimacy and by my desire to feel wanted. Loneliness is my oldest companion, and in my yearning to have someone to live with, to grow old with, to have children with, I have pushed you for things that you don't want._ _But I can't conscience pushing you in this way for even one moment longer._

 _It's not your fault, and I'm not mad at you._

 _I love you, and I believe you when you say that you love me too. As you well know, the Greeks had at least four different words for love: Agápe, Éros, Philia, and Storge. Love is not a term that can be so easily defined. It comes in many forms._

 _I will always consider you my greatest friend: Philia. But I hold Éros in my heart for you as well, even though I know that in that much I am alone._

Her mind and body now feeling equally exhausted, Amy tucks her notebook and pen back into her pack. It's a cathartic process to write these things out, she supposes. Facing the reality is devastating, but it's best to do so while she's out here in the middle of nowhere, while she still feels more numb than anything else.

She needs to add in the truth that she got from her doctor, but that bit of news isn't at the heart of her issues with Sheldon. It's more like the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

Amy is far too tired to get into all of that tonight. The first letter she wrote should buy her some time. She can mail it tomorrow morning when she stops by the next town on her map. With any luck, she'll find the right words to finish this second one and mail it in a few more days.

The light of dusk is fading, so Amy prepares for sleep by stretching out on her unrolled sleeping bag. She peeks out of the opening to her tent and stares up at the vast sky, watching as the stars appear one by one.

Instead of counting sheep, Amy decides to count the sore muscles of her body. She closes her eyes and feels the ache from head to toe.

 _Trapezius. Deltoid. Latissimus Dorsi._

 _Erector spinae. Gluteus maximus. Piriformis._

 _Quadriceps femoris. Rectus Femoris. Sartorius._

 _Biceps femoris. Semitendinosus. Semimembranosus._

 _Pectoralis major. Pectoralis minor. Serratus anterior._

Her consciousness begins to drift, but she manages to count just one last pain. _The heart._

* * *

—-

* * *

The clock on Howard's dashboard shows that it's three minutes past noon when he parks at Sheldon's apartment building. He gets out of his car and can feel his stomach rumbling while he walks towards the entrance. It's probably a bad idea to have agreed to skip his lunch hour just to help out Sheldon. That weirdo is unlikely to appreciate his sacrifice.

He enters the lobby and spots Sheldon pacing back and forth in front of the mailboxes. It looks like his laptop is tucked under his arm.

"Sheldon, what are you doing?" he asks.

"The mail should arrive sometime between now and 12:10. Enrique is usually very prompt."

Okay. That doesn't really answer the question. Howard tries again, "So, you're what? The world's lankiest guard dog waiting to bark at him?"

Sheldon continues to pace, which is starting to make Howard dizzy. "Of course not, I'm just expecting an important communication."

So that must be why he insisted that they meet here. Howard is aware that Sheldon has been acting a bit crazier than normal in Amy's absence, but pestering the mail guy in his impatience to receive correspondence from her seems a little over-the-top.

"And are you going to growl at him if he doesn't bring you what you want?"

Sheldon cocks his head, thinking it over. His shoulders slump when he decides, "No, it wouldn't be his fault."

"Fine. So, what is it exactly that you need my help with, anyway?"

That question is enough to stop Sheldon's repetitive laps, and instead he pulls out his computer and shoves it into Howard's chest. It's grab it or drop it, so Howard holds on tight.

"I want to track Amy down. When Penny pointed out how creepy the process would be, I knew that you were just the man for the job."

He no doubt intends that as flattery, but Howard scowls at the insult. Undeterred by this reaction, Sheldon continues, "Ideally, I'd like to hack her iPhone and access her GPS data. In addition to that, we could try to gather clues from her credit card or ATM history."

He can't believe that Sheldon wants to do this. "You do realize that what you're asking me to do is not only creepy, but it's also criminal. "

A blank stare is Sheldon's only reply. At least he's not pacing again.

"Come on. Amy is my friend. I may have done some questionable things in my life, but I'm not going to—"

Howard is interrupted by the opening of the front door. Sheldon perks up and trots over next to him, and they both turn to see that the mailman has arrived. Once the guy spots Sheldon, his eyes go wide and he takes a step that leaves Howard sandwiched like a human shield between them.

"Good afternoon, Enrique, what have you got today?" Sheldon asks, craning his neck to see around Howard.

"As I've told you, sir, I have to put the mail in the box first," Enrique says. In an obvious effort to placate Sheldon, he holds out a small box of Red Vines.

Sheldon accepts the treat with a surprised look on his face. He also takes a step back, which is probably what the mail guy was trying to accomplish.

"You a friend of that guy?" the mailman whispers to Howard, rushing the short distance over to the mailboxes.

Only a few steps away, Sheldon is distracted, munching on a long, red strand. A little ashamed to admit it, Howard nods.

"A short, curly-haired fellow with glasses gave me the Red Vines yesterday. Sometimes I carry a few dog treats, just in case. But this… this is a new one."

Howard nods again in commiseration at having to deal with Sheldon's weirdness.

Enrique finishes the delivery with haste, and then gives Sheldon a friendly slap on the back on his way out. "I hope you find what you're looking for soon, man."

That jerks Sheldon's attention away from his treat. He scampers over to the mailboxes while wiggling his keys out of his pocket. Jabbing the key in and turning the lock, he soon gains access to the one marked 4A. There's a small stack of envelopes inside, and Howard sees him scoop them out and start flipping through them. Suddenly he drops all the papers except for one, and after staring at it for a second or two, he tears through the envelope.

Howard wishes he'd stopped to pick up a burger on the way here. Maybe it won't matter, though. There's no way in hell that he's going to help Sheldon hack into Amy's private information, so he should still have plenty of time to find sustenance before he needs to head back to work.

"Sheldon, as I was saying, I'm not going to help you go full stalker-psycho on Amy. You're perfectly capable and aware of most hacking methodology. In fact, I think what's going on here is that your conscience is getting to you. You only invited me here because you know that this is wrong, and what you really want is for someone else to do your dirty work."

He doesn't even look up in response to the accusation. His face is buried in the letter, and Howard becomes certain that it must be from Amy. Looking at Sheldon's expression, it appears that he is relieved, but as he finishes, he flops his arms down at his sides.

He never does address Howard. Instead, Sheldon folds the letter and tucks both it and the remaining Red Vines into his pocket. Then he bends to scoop the mail off the ground, swipes his laptop out of Howard's arms, and turns on his heel to start trudging up the stairs.

After a few steps, he can just make out the sound of Sheldon muttering to himself. "Rock formations, really? Geology isn't a real science, Amy."

* * *

—

* * *

It's close to dinner time when Sheldon realizes that he forgot to eat lunch. All of this ridiculous Amy angst is messing with his digestive routine. Hopefully, she will come to her senses soon. This isn't _Lord of the Rings_ , so she needn't go out questing through the wilderness. Besides, it's Sheldon himself who holds the one true ring. She should not have left without him.

He usually has a plan for every meal, but this past week has been pure chaos. It's no wonder his stomach has been bothering him all the time. A quick glance into the freezer and refrigerator does not provide him with any appetizing ideas. He assesses his row of cereal boxes but decides that fiber and dairy products on an uneasy stomach might not be the wisest of plans. Perhaps some bread and water might suffice, the traditional meal of the suffering and condemned.

Sheldon spots a loaf of bread on the countertop—the sourdough loaf he had baked for his anniversary date with Amy. He forbade anyone else from touching it, assuming, of course, that Amy would be back again to eat it with him. After six days, it is now spotted with green and black. He picks it up, places it gently into the garbage, and then makes his way back over to his desk chair. He isn't hungry anymore.

About an hour later, he is distracted from his online research when Leonard comes in through the front door of their apartment.

"Hey Sheldon, how's it going?" he asks, setting down a few styrofoam takeout boxes on the coffee table.

"Did you know Apple has tightened up their security measures since that unfortunate incident with all the naked ladies last year?"

"You mean 'The Fappening'?"

Sheldon nods. "What does that even mean, 'The Fappening'? It's such a ridiculous, made-up word."

"Well, it refers to the fact that a bunch of guys on the internet who are lusting after these famous women would obviously… never mind." Leonard wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. "Anyway, how about a burger?"

Sheldon feels his stomach make a hopeful gurgle. Maybe he can take a quick break. He walks over and accepts the container that Leonard is nudging towards him.

"Thank you," he says, remembering the manners his mother taught him. The burger looks good, but Sheldon removes the bun.

Leonard tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Going low carb?"

"I don't want any bread," he replies, feeling no real desire to explain further.

As they both dig in to eat, Sheldon returns to the previous conversation. "You know, I really wish all those people had kept it in their pants. This heightened security has made it impossible to hack Amy's cloud to see if she has stored any geotagged photographs of her trip or any other data that might indicate her location. All this inconvenience just so a bunch of Neanderthals can ogle strange women."

"Some of them were pretty hot," Leonard says with a goofy grin.

"Ugh. Of course you'd think so." Sheldon gives him his best look of disapproval, but Leonard's smile only grows wider.

"So, you're a sudden advocate for privacy? Can't you see a little hypocrisy here?"

Drat. The little man makes a good point. Still, it's not like he has malevolent intentions. "I'm not doing this so that I can try to gawk at Amy's naked form."

"Maybe that's the problem," he mumbles under his breath.

It's still loud enough that Sheldon can hear it, but discussing coital matters with his roommate is an unappealing proposition. He decides to ignore the comment.

Leonard gulps down a few bites of burger before he starts talking again. "Howard wasn't able to help?"

Sheldon uses his fork to pick off small pieces of his burger to eat. It's too messy to pick up by hand without the bun. "He's an engineer and I'm an accomplished physicist with two doctorates. No, he was no help at all."

"You mean he refused? Good. You really need to calm down about all of this. Do you even realize that you missed a department meeting this afternoon?"

"Nothing important ever comes from a Friday afternoon meeting. Everyone just stares at the clock and hopes that no one else notices them staring at the clock."

"Yeah, but the same could be said for most other meetings. That's not the point, though. You can't just go skipping part of the work day to stalk your ex-girlfriend."

Hearing the prefix 'ex' is enough to kill whatever remained of Sheldon's weak appetite. He sets his fork in the box and rests his weight back in his spot. That's another good point by Leonard, his second of the night, and Sheldon feels like this must be _The Twilight Zone_.

"I don't know what to do," he admits.

"Well, what did her letter say?"

"She wrote about hiking, local wildlife, unique fauna..." He has to pause to let an involuntary shudder pass through him. "And geological formations."

"Oh. That's probably not what you were hoping for, but the important thing is that she's doing okay. I think you need to do what she asked you to do before she left. Give her time. It took years for Penny and I to work everything out. Sometimes you just have to be patient."

Sheldon doesn't want to be patient. He wants everything to work out right now.

"So, where is Penny? I didn't expect to see either of you on a Friday night."

"Oh, uh, she has this… thing. A meeting. She is shopping for some supplies. Tomorrow she's traveling to meet with a friend—cousin, er... person," Leonard sputters. "Anyway, I thought that I should stay here and keep you company for a bit."

Sheldon may be terrible at reading facial expressions and vocal inflections, but his roommate is an even worse liar.

"Tell me, Leonard, is Penny's friend-cousin-person fond of cardigans?"

"Um, well, Nebraska can get a bit nippy, so I think that, um, that could be a—a possibility."

Leonard's continued stuttering confirms the truth, so Sheldon crosses his arms over his chest and issues one simple demand.

"Tell me where she is."

* * *

—


	5. Chapter 5

—-

* * *

CHAPTER 5

* * *

Thank goodness for the wonders of cellular technology. Penny has been able to get precise location information from Amy that makes it easy to meet her along the trail. After an hour long drive to the small town of Agua Dulce, Penny makes her way down the path to meet her friend.

She glances down at her phone's GPS map and sees that Amy should be about a half of a mile away. Squinting into the distance, Penny can just make out a colorful lump that is likely to be her frumpy friend. As she gets closer, she spots Amy sitting with her back propped up against a skinny tree, napping in the meager shade that it provides. She plops down next to her and nudges Amy's shoulder with her own. "Hey there, bestie."

Amy rouses and turns to give Penny a half-hearted looking smile. "Hey," she answers back while stifling a yawn. She wipes her hand over her sweaty face as if to wipe the drowsiness away. "Thanks for coming to keep me company today."

It's been no more than five days, but Penny can already spot a difference in Amy's appearance. Her pale skin is beginning to tan, and her hiking clothes hang more loosely from her body. She looks worn out. Penny is pleased to see that her friend has at least had the sense to forgo wearing cardigans on this excursion.

"Even better than company, I brought you more food and water." Penny points her thumb at her own small backpack of supplies. "I might have even stashed a little Jägermeister in there for you. But don't drink any of that until you've stopped for the night. We can't have you stumbling and tumbling around out here. Sheldon would never let us hear the end of it if you got hurt."

Too late, Penny realizes that maybe it's not the best idea to bring up Sheldon right away. She offers Amy an apologetic look. "Sorry."

"No, that's okay. How is he?"

"Sheldon is… Sheldon." Penny isn't sure how to balance the issue of privacy for each of her friends. "He did find out that I was coming out here to meet you. Leonard and I had to spike his Yoo-Hoo with Benadryl last night so that he'd sleep in long enough for me to escape without him tagging along."

Amy raises an eyebrow. "He's not going to be happy about that once he figures out what you did."

"Yeah. We really did have his best interests at heart, though, and I think he'll come to understand that. In the meantime, I fully expect a lecture from him about the dangers of drug usage."

A wistful smile crosses Amy's face, and Penny remembers her friend's peculiar enjoyment of Sheldon-based soliloquies. "Did he forget that coming with you would involve the great outdoors? There are bugs out here, you see."

Penny snorts. "And don't forget wild bunnies!"

They exchange amused glances before Amy turns to pull a water bottle from her pack. While her friend is taking a drink, Penny tries to think of what else she can divulge.

"You know, Sheldon has been pretty lost without you."

"I know the feeling. It hasn't even been a week and…" Amy's words trail off and she shrugs.

"I'm not so sure that Sheldon understands why you've broken things off. To be honest, I'm not entirely clear on it either. I know you love him—in an all-encompassing, irrational kind of way, no less."

"There's no other way to love a man like Sheldon," Amy says.

That's true enough, Penny supposes, but it doesn't help her figure out what's wrong. Before she can come up with another way to pry, Amy reaches into her pack and pulls out an envelope.

"I was going to mail this in Agua Dulce, but then I figured you could pass it along to Sheldon instead. It should answer a lot of his questions."

Penny tries to stuff her curiosity aside, just as she is stuffing the envelope into her bag, but she can't quite do it. "Look, I know how Sheldon is, and I can't say I blame you for wanting something different for your life, but don't you think you should explain things to him in person?"

Amy sighs. While she ponders her answer, she traces her finger through the dirt in a haphazard fashion. The resultant shapes aren't recognizable to Penny.

"Sometimes when I'm around Sheldon, it's hard to make myself face the truth. When I'm with him, I can't stop myself from hoping and wishing for things that are never going to happen."

Oh. Penny tries to think of some way to commiserate. "Every couple has challenges. You know, in only my first week of marriage, I almost botched things with Leonard. Yeah, he kissed another woman years ago, but he was drunk and lonely. Even in that altered state, he still ended up choosing me. More importantly, he told me the truth about it. But if I hadn't given him a chance to explain, I might have gotten caught up in fears that weren't true."

Amy looks up at her, tilting her head. Wrinkles form on her forehead as she replies, "If you're trying to relate to me with a story about your lover's overactive libido, I don't think it's going to work. This situation is not at all analogous."

If analogous means what Penny thinks it does, then Amy is right.

Pushing herself to her feet, Amy scoops up her large pack and straps it around her waist. "Come on, girlfriend, let's go for a walk."

Grabbing her own small backpack, Penny steps up to walk at Amy's side. They hike in silence for several minutes, and Penny takes deep breaths in rhythm with their pace. Hiking at this high of an altitude has them far away from the pollution that likes to settle close to Los Angeles. There's a deep canyon on their left, and hills and valleys in the distance. The sky is bright blue, nearly cloudless, allowing her to feel the warmth of the sun. Trees are present, but sparse, as is most plant life. Some foliage is able to withstand the sun and lack of water, and the green splashes of color stand out in stark contrast to the sandy shade of the dry earth and the drab grey of rocks and stones. Up here the view is clear and bright, and Penny feels a happy spring in her step in spite of her friend's predicament.

Beside her, Amy trudges along, weighed down by her heavy pack of supplies. She moves at a good clip, though, despite her burden.

"You sure you don't want me to schlep that pack for a while?" Penny offers.

"No, thank you. I've got to deal with the weight of my own choices here. Besides, I barely feel it at this point. The human body adapts quickly to its circumstances."

For the next quarter of a mile, Penny argues with herself about whether she should continue to meddle. Eventually she can't stand it anymore and blurts, "How do you know what might or might not happen in the future? Isn't it a bad idea to presume things when it comes to someone like Sheldon?"

Amy slows her walking pace as she answers, "After five years, I think I know Sheldon's heart and mind pretty well—as much as he's ever likely to show me, anyway. There's not much choice about it any more."

Penny comes to a halt as she forms a rebuttal. "But you can't know that if you don't talk to him. Amy, I knew Sheldon for a few years before he even met you. I never thought I'd see him grow into the person he is now. And you—it's all because he loves you. I don't think anyone ever expected Sheldon Cooper to have a girlfriend—much less to have date nights, sleepovers, hugs, and kisses."

Amy has stopped too, and she looks into Penny's eyes with an intense expression on her face. "It's true that Sheldon has come a long way. He has a greater capacity for love than people give him credit for. But maybe I'm not the one he's meant to spend his life with. Maybe there is someone out there who won't have to push so hard. Maybe every day, week, or month he spends with me is wasted time that could be better spent finding someone who can give him something that I can't."

Penny feels her mouth drop open in shock. She can't fathom Sheldon dating someone else. "No one is more right for Sheldon than you are and vice-versa. Hell, he has never even been interested in any woman besides you."

"Ah, but he's never been entirely interested in me either, has he? Did you know that just last month I had to explain to him why it was important to me that we reside on the same planet?"

It's hard to argue with that, but Penny wants to try. She reaches out her hand and sets it on Amy's shoulder. "I almost lost Leonard once. Years ago, you remember Priya?"

When Amy nods, Penny continues, "I had broken up with Leonard because I thought I wasn't good enough. I feared that he would be better off with a woman who has similar interests and more book smarts. But Amy, i just ended up hurting us both for no good reason."

"I wish it was as simple as that, but there is one huge difference here." Amy glances down at her feet before once again turning her sad eyes up to Penny. "Leonard has always wanted to be with you. He's always wanted everything with you."

* * *

—-

* * *

On Saturday morning, Leonard opens his eyes and is met by Sheldon's angry gaze only a few inches from his face.

"Gah! Sheldon, what the hell?" Leonard pushes his body away from those crazy eyes.

"Penny left without me. It's 9:00, Leonard. Why am I just waking up now?" he asks, sounding every bit as frantic as he looks.

It's useless to lie, but Leonard decides to give it a shot anyway. "Maybe you were really tired," he suggests.

"You left the bottle of Benadryl out on the bathroom countertop."

Uh-oh, it looks like the jig is up. He shrugs. "Sorry. I know that kind of sloppiness is a violation of the Roommate Agreement—"

"Never mind that. You drugged me!"

"Just a little," Leonard mumbles. Trying to add some confidence to his voice, he continues, "Look, I'm sorry, Sheldon, but you've been acting like a lunatic. And by that I mean even more than usual. I know you haven't been sleeping well, and by doing this we killed two birds with one stone. You got some much needed rest, and you didn't get a chance to make an even bigger mess of things with Amy."

Even to Leonard this sounds like a rationalization, but it is also the truth. Sheldon stomps out of Leonard's bedroom, and he can hear the distant sound of his friend slamming down a bowl, a spoon, a box of cereal, and finally a jug of milk.

Leonard waits five minutes before he braves going out into the living room. If he's lucky, some food and _Doctor Who_ programming will have started to settle Sheldon down. After fixing his own bowl of cereal, Leonard seats himself into the chair to enjoy his breakfast.

Of course, enjoying a breakfast while Sheldon is brooding is easier said than done. It doesn't look like he is eating very much, because even though he fiddles with the spoon, he rarely brings it to his mouth. At his roommate's obvious distress, Leonard feels compelled to say something.

"Are you okay?"

"My girlfriend is out galavanting like some adventure book heroine, my supposed best friend has drugged me with over-the-counter anti-histamines, and I'm watching _Doctor Who_ two and a half hours late. What do you think?" Sheldon finishes his melodramatic rant by slamming his bowl onto the coffee table and folding his arms over his chest.

The most concerning thing about Sheldon's outburst isn't the words themselves. Rather, Leonard finds himself startled that Sheldon is ignoring the little tidal wave of milk that has overflowed the bounds of his cereal bowl to drip onto the table.

There's no easy way to assuage his friend's anxiety, but Leonard lowers his voice and gives it his best try. "I know this is difficult, but you have got to respect Amy's wishes. You don't need to rescue her. She is not a damsel in distress, and you are no knight in shining armor. She won't be gone long. You can bug her when she gets back."

Leonard hopes his words will ease Sheldon's mind, but if not, he figures that he can at least help with his friend's OCD-like tendencies. He brings both of their breakfast dishes into the kitchen and rinses them before putting them into the dishwasher. On his way back, Leonard snags a paper towel from off the roll and then proceeds to wipe up the small puddle of milk that rests on the table in front of Sheldon's spot.

* * *

—

* * *

Raj can think of at least four different ways that he would rather be spending his Saturday afternoon. He could be snuggling up with his best girl and showering her with affection. Or he could be spending the day with Emily, continuing to walk the fine line between arousal and terror. There's a new space documentary that he could go see, or he could check out the new episodes of _Good Eats_ with Alton Brown waiting on his DVR.

But Raj isn't doing any of those things. Instead, he is here playing MarioKart with Howard, Leonard, and Sheldon. If there's one thing that all four of them can relate to, it's getting rejected by a woman. Raj figures the least they can do is keep Sheldon company during his initial waves of heartbreak.

It's not always easy to be around someone like him, even at the best of times, and today is proving to be more challenging than usual. Sheldon's driving is more erratic than ever. Raj could swear that he is doing it on purpose.

"Jeez dude, I thought Amy taught you how to drive!" Raj exclaims when Sheldon's spinning car knocks them both off the Rainbow Road for the third time in a single lap.

"And now she is in the midst of teaching me the ways of chaos," Sheldon answers, sounding unaffected. Back on the road, he breaks a box that gives him banana peels. He starts flinging them wildly in front of him, initiating yet another chain reaction of cartoon carnage.

Once they all manage to straggle across the finish line, Howard asks, "What were we thinking when we decided to play this in team mode?"

Raj shakes his head. "That was a bad idea. I'd suggest we switch to a first person shooter, but I think Sheldon would just kill us all."

"Well, I would have preferred to be experiencing an outdoor adventure, but that option was stolen from me," Sheldon says with a pointed look at Leonard. "If you gentlemen would excuse me, I need to go pour my own beverage, lest I once again fall prey to the evil machinations of one Dr. Hofstadter."

After Sheldon strides from the room, Howard leans in and asks Leonard, "Do we even want to know what that's about?"

"Definitely not."

Both Raj and Howard take him at his word and don't ask for further details. Sheldon returns in short order with a glass of soda. He sets it on the table, but then slides it as far away from Leonard as possible. Raj doesn't think that adding caffeine to Sheldon's current state of mind will bode well. Unable to think of another way to start the conversation, he decides to ask about it.

"I thought you preferred to partake of caffeinated beverages only on special occasions."

"Well, I figure drugs are the theme of the day, aren't they?" he answers while scowling at the man on his left once again.

Leonard shrugs, looking apologetic, and Raj wonders if Sheldon will be able to pick up the subtle hints of remorse on his roommate's face. Probably not.

After taking a sip from his glass, Sheldon continues, "When I was growing up, my father always sought solutions for life's problems with assorted forays into the world of chemical dependency. Drugs and alcohol are the classic way to drown one's sorrows when a relationship is threatened, correct?"

Leonard sighs. "That's just soda, Sheldon."

Raj agrees, "Yeah, dude, it's just a little caffeine and sugar."

"It's close enough. Besides, alcohol tastes yucky."

While Sheldon takes a few more sips of soda, Raj helps Leonard sort through the video game options. Wii sports seems like a promising option, presuming that they don't play it as a team, of course.

After a moment or two, Howard is the next to break the silence. "Sheldon, have you considered trying to puzzle out what went wrong with your relationship?"

Raj gapes at him in shock, and he can see that Leonard is doing the same. Trying to get Sheldon to talk about his dying relationship seems like a terrible idea. The plan was to hang out with the man in friendly solidarity, not probe the mysteries of the odd couple's failed romance.

"There's nothing wrong with our relationship. In fact, I fully expect Amy to come around very soon. If she needs to frolic with nature like some Disney princess first, then so be it," Sheldon says with a shrug.

Howard tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "You do understand that it isn't nature that you should be concerned about Amy frolicking with, right?"

As ever, Sheldon appears clueless and then tries to cover it with bluster. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say, Howard. A few more years of schooling really would have helped—for both acquiring a doctorate and improving your communication skills."

It's nothing more than a typical Sheldon-style belittling, but it seems to be effective at pissing off Howard. Raj stops flipping through the game cartridges to gawk at the pair.

Howard stands and folds his arms over his chest. His soft tone doesn't match his words when he says, "Maybe you're right. Maybe Amy will give up her last vestiges of self-respect and come back to you."

His voice turns harsher as he adds, "Or maybe she has grown up enough that she wants to try dating a guy whose balls have dropped."

Sheldon narrows his eyes. "I don't care for sports, but I don't see how dropping a ball in any of them would be a good thing."

Leonard scratches his nose and whispers a hint. "He's referring to a part of your body, Sheldon."

This time Sheldon's eyes widen. He stands up and sputters, "There's nothing wrong with my testicles, Howard. And I fail to see how that ridiculous statement relates to Amy."

Raj snorts. Of course Sheldon can't figure out what his genitalia could possibly have to do with Amy. "I think he means that you should consider using them. For something other than getting kneed by bullies, I mean."

Howard nods. "Raj gets it. My point, Sheldon, is that perhaps your former girlfriend doesn't aspire to die a virgin in the same way that you do."

"Guys, stop. Don't you think you're being a little harsh here?" Leonard tries to be the voice of reason.

"I could go for a lot less discussion of Sheldon's gonads," Raj says, tilting his head with consideration. "Of that much, I am certain."

This approach does seem unusually aggressive. Raj suspects that Howard's intent is to shake Sheldon out of his complacency. If the man still insists that nothing at all is wrong with his relationship, then maybe such tactics are warranted.

Howard shakes his head at Leonard. "No. He needs to hear this. It's not going to be any less painful for him to figure it out later when he sees her moving on with some other dorky loser."

He turns back to Sheldon. "Whatever your 'deal' is? That's your business. But what I'm telling you is true. Amy is not going to have difficulty finding another nerdy, socially awkward guy. We're everywhere. And when she finds one? Well, let's just say that he won't have the same hangups that you do."

Sheldon is clenching his fists, and Raj can see the veins sticking out along his neck. He has never seen Sheldon look so enraged before. A fight between these two is unlikely to cause much physical harm, but Raj would rather not witness the flailing. He stands and starts to move to separate them, but Leonard beats him to it and steps between them.

Leaning around Leonard, Sheldon addresses Howard. "That's not what this is about. There's no way that she broke up with me over something as simple as that. And I'm not aspiring to die a virgin. That's completely absurd," he chokes out through gritted teeth.

Leonard puts his arm out to hold back Sheldon's attempts to step forward. Raj thinks it's a good thing that someone's already got a hold of him when he hears Howard's next words.

"You tell yourself whatever you need to, like you always do. I'm just warning you that the woman you claim to love is going to find someone new. You should've plowed that field a long time ago." Undeterred by Sheldon's obvious anger, Howard continues, "I would've, if I were you. Hell, if I were single now? I totally would."

Sheldon's tone sounds like a warning when he responds, "Would what?"

"I think you know." Howard smirks and tilts his head toward Raj. "So would he."

Raj is certain that he doesn't want to be pulled in to this any more than he already has been. Though his intentions may be good, Howard has gotten far too carried away with the moment. Raj looks from Sheldon to Howard and back again. There is nothing he can say that will help right now. Fortunately, he has had plenty of practice staying mute.

"Guys, it is time for you to leave now," Leonard insists. He probably wants to get them out before Sheldon can figure out what Howard is talking about, but it turns out that Sheldon is not so naive after all.

"Don't talk about Amy like that," he warns, his eyes darting to each man in the room.

Howard sighs. He sounds genuine when he says, "Sheldon, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings here, and I'm definitely not trying to imply anything rude about Amy. Believe it or not, I want you guys to be happy. But if you can't even admit to yourself that something has gone wrong, then you are going to be facing some serious heartbreak."

Raj rubs his chin and nods his agreement. "He could've found a more delicate approach, but Howard's right. Both you and Amy are our friends, and we all want the two of you to find happiness. Maybe you need to figure out what that means, for yourself and for her."

* * *

—-


	6. Chapter 6

—-

* * *

CHAPTER 6

* * *

The Saturday afternoon spent gaming with his friends did not provide Sheldon with as much distraction as he had hoped. His anger with Howard and Raj has faded, but the memory of what they said won't stop pounding through his brain.

Sheldon pokes his fork into his plate of pasta and twirls it around the tines. Leonard has been kind enough to make some spaghetti for the two of them to share, but it just isn't the same. Amy makes it so much better. After a few more bites, he pushes his barely touched plate away and settles his weight back into his spot. Even the perfect origin point of his universe doesn't offer much comfort these days.

"I think that I was right way back in the beginning," he says into the quiet of the room.

Leonard continues to shovel a forkful of pasta into his mouth before he mumbles, "Oh?"

"Relationships. Women. Love. Sex. I was right to build my life around work instead."

Leonard's throat bobs as he gulps down his mouthful of food. He then dabs his mouth on his shirt sleeve, forcing Sheldon to look away in distaste. "Well to be fair, I don't remember you ever giving any of those other things much of a chance."

Sheldon snorts. "And I was right not to. To think, I've dated a woman for five years, but right now she's out playing at being some overgrown Dora the Explorer instead of working things out with me. It just goes to show what a childish waste of time relationships are." He shakes his head and continues, "She's been flooding my brain with serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, and other neurological slop for years now. It's no wonder I feel like I'm drowning."

"Yeah, that sounds like love, buddy."

He's not sure if it's comforting or troubling that his emotions are relatable to the likes of the average man. While he ponders that issue, his roommate smirks and adds, "Maybe you might have some issues with your mesolimbic dopamine pathway."

"You take that back! My neural pathways are pristine."

"Probably too pristine," Leonard mumbles, but Sheldon can still hear him.

Deciding that such a nonsensical statement isn't worthy of a response, he returns his attention to his meal. Picking up his plate so that he can jab at the remnants of his dinner some more, he stabs at it while he finishes his rant, "Adios, Dr. Fowler."

After a few more bites eaten in silence, Leonard clears his throat and says, "Penny should be back soon."

It would be so much easier not to care, but of course that's not possible. Sheldon doesn't really want to tell Amy goodbye, not ever. He hopes that Penny will have something useful to tell him. He sets his plate down again and settles for fiddling with his napkin to keep his idle hands busy.

He watches Leonard continue to stuff forkfuls of spaghetti into his mouth and tries to think of a way to bring up a difficult topic. Emotions of any kind are not Sheldon's favorite thing to talk about, and though he would never do so with the likes of Howard and Raj, Leonard is different.

Howard's intrusive statements have left him floundering for answers. Amy would be the optimal person to ask, but since she is unavailable, his roommate is the next best choice. As Leonard scrapes his plate to form one final mouthful, Sheldon realizes that he has run out of time to stall.

"Do you think that what Howard said earlier is true?" he blurts.

Leonard chews his final bite slowly before moving to set his plate down onto the coffee table. "Um, not exactly. Well, it wasn't untrue, but I believe he may have overemphasized that facet of your relationship."

Sheldon stares at the crumpled napkin in his hands and begins to spread it out flat against his thigh. He tries to smooth out the wrinkles with the palm of his hand, taking comfort in bringing some small measure of order to his world.

"So you don't believe that this breakup nonsense is all about coitus?"

It doesn't take Leonard long to come up with a reply. "No, not at all. If that was all Amy wanted, she could've sought it out elsewhere a long time ago."

That has been Sheldon's thought too, but he is happy to hear it voiced by someone else. He absentmindedly starts refolding his napkin. "What… what do you think it is about?"

Leonard scratches his head. "You know, I can't sit here and claim to be an authority of what's going on in her mind. You're going to need to ask her. The one thing I am certain about, however, is that she loves you."

Sheldon smiles for the first time all week. "She does love me, doesn't she? I'm a lovable guy."

For some reason, his statement causes Leonard to roll his eyes. "She does, and it's nice to see that you're fully confident of that, but…"

His brief respite of happiness begins to falter. "But what?"

"Over the past five years, Amy has made her feelings for you abundantly clear. Do you think you can say the same?"

Sheldon makes a few more folds, pressing his napkin into a smaller and smaller strip. He pauses in his work as he processes Leonard's question and tries to figure out what his little Yoda is trying to teach him.

"Absolutely. I've told her outright that I love her. That's not something that I ever anticipated, nor is the continued evolution of our relationship. She knows me well enough to know how difficult change is for me, and nothing has ever changed my life more than having her in it."

Leonard nods. "You have definitely grown with her in ways that I wouldn't have expected given how you were years ago. Still, there are times when your… difficulties might appear to be rejection from Amy's point of view."

Seeing as how Sheldon has gotten closer to Amy than any other person in his adult life, that explanation doesn't make much sense to him. "I don't see how that's possible."

With a raised eyebrow, Leonard responds, "Seriously? Okay, well, as an outside observer, let me tell you what I've witnessed. And keep in mind that what I know is only a small part of what Amy has experienced with you, but it's still enough to bring to light a few noteworthy trends."

Always fascinated by himself, Sheldon listens with great curiosity. He continues fidgeting with his napkin while he stares up at his friend.

"From the very beginning, I always saw plenty of enthusiasm from Amy when it came to you. Holding hands, date nights, ridiculous Relationship Agreement—she was happy about all of it. She has even been foolish enough to think she wants to live with you."

"Who wouldn't?"

Leonard clears his throat and gives him a funny look that he can't decipher. Eventually, he resumes his explanation, "Um, yeah. Anyway, for each step that you guys took, I saw her wanting you more and more. At the same time, you tended to push back, oftentimes in ways that would've certainly hurt her feelings."

That seems unlikely to Sheldon, but something must feel amiss to Amy. Unsure of where his roommate is going with this, he says, "I admit to being more of a turtle than a hare, but when something or someone is important to me, I consider it wise to be conservative with changes to the status quo."

"There's nothing wrong with moving at your own pace. I'm just suggesting you consider what that sometimes looks like to Amy. For example, I remember overhearing some of your negotiations about handholding and at a later time kissing. She wanted to do those things freely and at-will, while you argued for a lengthy list of restrictions."

Sheldon perks up at that, pleased to have a chance to defend himself. "I'm well aware of that, but many of those restrictions have been cast aside over time. We hold hands and kiss frequently, and I reach for her hand just as often as she does for mine. And really, I wouldn't engage in all of this dating and romance drivel if I didn't want to. She shouldn't doubt me now."

"Look, you're right that you've come a long way with that. But try to imagine if Amy asked to restrict or remove those elements of your relationship now that you've come to want them too. What if you wanted to kiss her or hold her hand, and she insisted that she didn't want to?"

Amy wanting less physical affection seems like an unfathomable premise. Then again, she has submitted the termination notice for their Relationship Agreement, and he supposes that this is one of the many consequences of such an action. Thinking about it makes his chest hurt, and he balls up his napkin to fill his lonely hand.

Leonard watches his reaction and says, "I can see that you get what I'm saying. That kind of physical rejection is something that Amy has felt a lot from you. Your reasons for moving at a slow pace are valid, but it is likely that doing so has caused her to feel what you're feeling right now quite often."

He hadn't considered that. Thinking about it now makes Sheldon long to hold Amy's hand.

"As I told you before, your physical relationship isn't everything. With Amy gone on this vacation, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what it was like for her when you went on your train trip. Just remember that you took off right when she had been giddily talking about living with you someday. That's a different sort of rejection, but I'm sure you know what I mean."

In an effort not to get too emotional in front of his buddy, Sheldon re-doubles his efforts at napkin origami. He presses it flat again and begins making more careful folds. The flimsy, weakened paper doesn't hold the creases very well.

"I also remember you trying to break up with her when I brought a dining room table in here. And there was an incident regarding Mars, where you didn't see why it would be a problem to live on a different planet from her. Sheldon, these are merely the things I can think of off the top of my head, but the ongoing theme is rejection."

"Most of those things happened a long time ago, and everything seemed okay. In fact, things had only been getting better and better until our anniversary. So why would she choose to end things at this moment in time?"

Leonard scratches his head and says, "I don't know. You two were having an anniversary date right before she broke things off. Did you hurt her feelings somehow or reject her in any way?"

He thinks back to the moment when things first went wrong on their date. They had been kissing—making out—quite enthusiastically. It had been Amy to pull away first, not him, so that can't be it. Then he had started to bring up commitment. He doesn't see how that topic could in any way be misconstrued as rejection. If anything, it's quite the opposite. That _was_ the moment when she first started to get mad, though. Women can be so irrational.

Holding one end of his completed napkin project, Sheldon allows the rest to fluff out into a floppy looking fan. He tries to direct air towards his warm face with it, but it quickly loses whatever defined shape it had.

After contemplating Leonard's theory, he begins, "Empathy is not my strongest quality, and I may not be perfect—"

His words are cut short by the sound of Leonard choking on his beverage. He coughs and sputters, causing yucky little droplets to rain down on the coffee table. Fortunately, he recovers his breath in short order, and then he swipes the ill-fated napkin fan and begins to dab at his mess. While he does so, he waves at Sheldon to continue speaking.

"You should use Lysol to disinfect that."

His roommate frowns at the suggestion, but he goes and gets the spray bottle from under the kitchen sink nonetheless.

Relieved to see a proper cleanup commencing, Sheldon resumes his earlier train of thought. "As I was saying, I appreciate your attempts at insight. I thought she was as happy as I was. If what you're saying is correct, if she has truly been feeling that way all along, doubting me, I wish she would've told me directly. Amy makes more sense to me than any other person I've ever known, but she's still a mystery in a lot of ways."

On his knees, Leonard looks up from his scrubbing. "Amy probably finds you mysterious too. You know what goes on in that crazy brain of yours, but she can't read your mind. If you want your relationship with her back, then you're going to need to make your interest very clear to her."

"I'm not crazy, my mother had me tested," Sheldon mumbles, his thoughts still tuned to Amy. He detests stating the obvious, but he does it anyway. "Of course I want my relationship with her."

Done with the cleanup, Leonard stands to his full height, such as it is. He smiles and pats Sheldon's shoulder. "Like I said, she loves you. And she's got a bit of a crazy brain too. I think the two of you can work things out, assuming you can make yourselves have a few honest conversations."

Sheldon looks over at his diminutive roommate. With his olive green shirt, his helpful tutelage, and his ever-increasing ear hair, Leonard really does remind Sheldon of Yoda sometimes.

* * *

—-

* * *

Sunday morning dawns, and the sun's first rays peek through the gaps in Amy's small tent. She squints against the growing brightness before greeting the morning with a loud groan. Spending time out in nature is a glorious experience, but the hard ground underneath her back reminds her that nature's mattress is a rocky bitch.

Amy rubs her eyes and sits up. She takes a much needed drink of water and longs for the indulgence of a shower. The arid climate of southern California makes the ground not only hard, but also dusty. The dirt seems to find a way to creep into her hiking boots and to generally coat her entire body in a light film of filth.

It takes some contortion within the confines of her temporary abode, but Amy manages to wiggle herself out of yesterday's dirty clothing. She stretches an arm out of the flap of her tent and snags some wet wipes from out of her pack. It will be another day or two until she reaches a town that might have facilities for taking a shower, so this will have to do for now. Sheldon would no doubt be horrified by the lack of ideal hygiene. She smiles at the thought of the facial expressions he would make, and she can almost hear the rant that he would give her about the unsanitary conditions.

When Amy emerges from her tent, she takes some time to admire the sight of the sun rising over the horizon. From pink to orange to yellow, the changing colors of the light make for a compelling view. The distant hills and mountains form a dark, contrasting silhouette. To the south, even the polluted haze over Los Angeles takes on a pretty orange hue.

After brushing her teeth, dressing herself, and packing up her gear, Amy consults her map while eating a hasty breakfast. She plans to turn around sometime during the midday. Her map shows a particular lookout point that should be about a mile or two from her current location. She glances up and squints into the distance, and sure enough, there is some high ground that should make an excellent vantage point to see into the canyons below.

Hiking a few miles feels like nothing at this point. Amy has become accustomed to ignoring the various muscle aches and pains that come with each step, and the blisters that had formed in her first few days have largely healed. With those irritations cleared up, it frees her mind to wander back to her predicament with Sheldon. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, Amy isn't sure.

If there's a proper way to handle this situation, she has yet to think of it. Her foray into the wilderness is providing some time and space, but it isn't solving any of her problems, not that she expected it to. It has been an exercise in procrastination more than anything else.

Sheldon should have gotten her second letter last night. It explains the situation pretty well, but it is missing one important detail. When it came down to it, she had been unable to work up the courage to write about her probable infertility. She had chickened out so hard that she could practically still hear herself clucking.

It's fine. She has plenty of time to write one final letter. In all honesty, though, she isn't sure why informing him of this issue bothers her so much. After everything she spelled out in her previous communication, it's a matter that seems somewhat irrelevant to the big picture. Even if she were able to pop out kids like clowns out of a clown car, it would change nothing. In fact, if Sheldon hopes to have children someday, then perhaps learning of her diagnosis will end up making their breakup easier for him.

Truthfully, it probably won't. He dislikes any kind of change to his routine or his life, and the end of their relationship marks a big one for him to adjust to. She can't imagine a single thing that would make it easier on herself either.

It is just after noon when Amy reaches the high ground of her final destination. She shades her eyes with her hand and takes in the spectacular view. Despite the drought that has been plaguing southern California, there are still a number of trees sparsely dotting the land, having taken root during more favorable conditions. Here and there are tufts of stubborn grasses, weeds, and bushes. It pleases her to see the life out here, struggling and persisting in the face of the temporary difficulties of circumstance.

Sharp rocks, rounded boulders, and smooth expanses of stone dominate her surroundings. Standing at this high lookout point, she gets a good sense of not only how far she has come, but also of how much remains uncharted for her. There are deep valleys and tall hills running expansively all around. Farthest away, she can make out the sight of distant mountains. She won't ever set foot on any of these lands, but she doesn't want to let what she will never experience detract her from the enjoyment of the moment.

This seems like the best possible spot to take a break, so Amy shucks off her pack and sits on a nearby boulder. She guzzles some water and wipes the sweat from her face on her sleeve.

In spite of the pleasant scenery, there is something unsettling about reaching this point. She casts a glance down the trail that she took to get here. She'll be retracing those same steps within the hour, and the thought dampens her previous good spirits. There's a bleak, senseless feeling that comes from arriving at this wonderful spot only to turn around and go straight back from whence she came. It makes the entire journey seem pointless.

She sighs and looks back towards the distant hills and valleys. Maybe everything really is a futile waste of time. But even if it is, she doesn't regret one bit of it. It's still beautiful.

* * *

—

* * *

Penny lugs the heavy grocery bags up the final flight of stairs and is forced to set them down in order to open the door to 4A. Behind her, she can see the tops of Leonard's eyes as he peeks up above his own brown paper bags.

When they enter the apartment, she notes that Sheldon is in the same spot where they left him, staring blankly at his equally blank computer screen. He does not acknowledge their entrance.

Penny isn't sure what the worst part of this day will be just yet. Wading through the Sunday morning grocery crowd had been an unpleasant start. Trying not to elbow the whining little kids or step on the heels of the old geezers, she did at least manage to complete their shopping with minimal cursing.

Dealing with a broken-hearted Sheldon is going to be an entirely different form of suffering. Between his stubbornness and his sadness, Penny isn't sure whether he'll allow anyone at all to help him. She never thought she would miss his arrogant confidence and relentless bluster, but it hurts to see him like this.

He sits in silence, continuing to ignore them both, and she exchanges a few glances with Leonard while they start putting away the groceries. There are worse things than getting the silent treatment from Sheldon, for sure, but his gloominess is contagious.

Leonard breaks the awkward tension. "You okay, buddy?"

A grunt is Sheldon's only reply. Penny gave him Amy's letter when she returned last night, but he didn't say anything to either her or Leonard. He took it from her outstretched hand and then proceeded to shut himself inside his room without a word. This morning he has emerged from his solitude, but he has done nothing but sit and stare off into space since then.

Leonard continues, "That bad, huh?"

This time he looks up. "It was not entirely unexpected. What you told me yesterday… you were right."

It isn't often that Sheldon tells someone that they're right. Penny can see the surprise on Leonard's face. Sheldon, on the other hand, looks lost. She wants to offer him a consoling hug, but knowing him as she does, she suspects that he would find the contact more disconcerting than comforting.

Leonard strolls over and puts his hand on Sheldon's shoulder. "I hope you understand that there isn't anything that we talked about yesterday that you can't set right. I mean, assuming that it's what you want."

Sheldon tilts his head, and Penny wonders what kind of thoughts go through that man's unusual brain. As she watches, his bleak facial expression begins to shift into one of intensity and purpose. He is so deep in thought that Penny half expects to see smoke start coming out of his ears.

Suddenly, he turns and nods once at Leonard. He stands from his laptop vigil, and she can hear a few pops of his joints as he does so. Without giving them a second glance, he strides over to his bookshelf and runs his finger over the spines of the books.

"Amy has stated her case," Sheldon says, though it sounds like he is mostly talking to himself. "But she's got it all wrong. What I need to do is construct an appropriate rebuttal."

He ends up pulling several books off the shelf. Marching back to his desk, he snaps his laptop closed and stacks the books on top of it. Penny can't quite make out the titles, but the top one looks to be some kind of medical textbook. Scooping up his pile, Sheldon makes his way back to his room and shuts the door behind him.

Puzzled, she turns to Leonard and asks, "Do you have any idea what the hell he's planning?"

His eyebrows are scrunched up, making her husband look as confused as she feels. He shakes his head and says, "No. And I'm not so sure I even want to know."

* * *

—


	7. Chapter 7

—-

Thanks again to QBMaja for test reading every chapter in this story. She's the best!

* * *

CHAPTER 7

* * *

By Wednesday afternoon, Amy is more than ready to return to the comforts of her Glendale apartment. It is unlike her to shirk her responsibilities or hide from her problems, and even though the break from the stresses of her life was much needed, she feels a strong pull to return to reality. Besides all of that, she misses the simple indulgences of hot running water, cool drinking water, and the softness of her own bed.

She is approaching Agua Dulce again, and this stop should provide her with the opportunity for a much needed shower. She will also get a chance to mail her final letter to Sheldon, which finally contains the information about her probable infertility. It also contains encouragement for him to move on and try to find someone new, to not get stuck in the past due to habit and routine.

The idea of him with someone else is nauseating, and every once in a while, she wonders who that person will be. Is it someone she has already met? Hopefully, whenever that time comes, she will be able to pretend that she's happy for him. It will be difficult, but more than anything else, she does want him to have a wonderful and fulfilling life. It's not his fault that he doesn't want that with her, nor is it anyone else's. Sometimes, she supposes, life is just one mean old bitch.

As for her, it's not clear what her life will be like when she returns. So much of her existence revolves around Sheldon that when she tries to envision the future without him, all she can see is a blank slate of nothingness. She hopes that she won't lose his friendship, or the friendship of the rest of the group for that matter. They were friends before she arrived on the scene, and it's hard to know where she will fit in to that dynamic now.

A lot of that will come down to how Sheldon responds to the breakup. He could be very upset and decide he doesn't want her around at all, or he might be okay with it, more interested in trying to keep things as close to normal as possible. She's not sure which scenario would be worse, hard feelings or attempts at indifferent feelings. She suspects that Penny and Bernadette will remain friends with her regardless. Still, the thought of being cut off from the guys or being unable to sit in 4A to share meals with the whole gang makes her sad.

All of this time alone has been useful to think, but it hasn't helped her come to any conclusions. She is lonely, tired of her own company, and tired of dwelling on things she can't change. Thankfully, as the day wears on she becomes worn out by her exertions, and the physical tiredness takes over, helping her mind become numb to further emotional thoughts.

Amy yawns. It's been impossible to get enough sleep or enough food to keep up with the intense energy demands of full days spent hiking. The monotonous plodding of her footsteps only adds to her growing sleepiness. The early afternoon sun is bright, but that doesn't help keep her awake. Having just eaten lunch, her body's growing urge to nap is difficult to fend off. She should stop and take a break soon.

Her attention is drifting with each extra long blink of her eyes, but she startles to full alertness and her feet come to a halt when she notices movement only a few feet to her left. The suddenness of it causes her breath to catch, and she brings one hand up to cover her heart.

The brush rustles and a small, furry animal emerges. It bounds into the middle of the path and then freezes, its head cocked and one dark eye staring at her. She recognizes the cuddly critter as a desert cottontail. Feeling foolish about her overreaction, she is pleased that at least no one was here to witness it. The thought of crossing paths with a bunny after Sheldon's dire warnings makes her smirk. There's nothing frightening about this little guy, with his twitchy nose and fluffy white tail.

She takes a hesitant step forward, and even this tiny movement is enough to spook the rabbit. It darts off the trail so fast that she loses sight of it in an instant. There's a sharp drop-off into the canyon on her right, and Amy hopes that she didn't scare the stupid thing straight off a cliff. Maybe it is just hopping off to join its group. She can't think of what the proper term is for a group of rabbits. Sheldon would probably know.

As she takes her next steps she is startled again—this time by a terrible squealing sound. It's an obvious cry of distress that sounds almost human. Without a second thought, Amy steps off the trail and peeks down the sharp slope to her right.

About twenty feet down, she can see that the rabbit is lying near the edge of an even sharper precipice. She glances around, but there is no safe way to get down there to try to help the poor thing. Just as she starts to wonder how a wild animal could have tumbled down there, she feels her own footing give way beneath her.

She flails, trying to grab hold of one of the small trees that line the edge, but the closest one slips out of her grasping fingertips. Weighed down by her pack, there's little she can do to try to halt the slide. She goes down hard on her right wrist, and her head bounces off the firm, rocky earth.

There's no time to pray that she can stop her momentum before the even steeper ledge appears in her peripheral vision. Desperate, she claws at the slope, scrabbling to get a hold of anything at all, but everything whizzes by so fast.

She's uproariously lucky when her left foot wedges into a small outcropping of rocks, halting her downward fall. It doesn't feel so lucky when she hears the popping sound of soft tissue giving way as the ankle joint twists.

Amy hugs the steep hill and cries out in pain. Terrified, she pants and tries to catch her breath, wondering what the hell just happened.

* * *

—-

* * *

Tater tot day at the cafeteria is one of Howard's favorite things about Wednesday. He asks for an extra helping from the cafeteria server before he makes his way over to sit with his friends. His steady steps halt for a moment as he catches sight of Sheldon at their table. Howard hasn't seen him since Saturday when he tried to give the clueless wonder some helpful advice.

As he takes a seat, he notices that Sheldon is sitting with a contented expression on his face. It's kind of creepy.

"You're in a good mood," he points out, wondering what strange sorcery might be at work today.

Sheldon smiles. "Of course I am. My life is an endless expanse of excellence."

"Um, sure. That is a good bit of alliteration, if not otherwise accurate. But what about your relationship with Amy? I thought you were experiencing a brief flash of humanity and missing her."

"Oh, I do miss her, but she will be back by Sunday night."

Howard sighs.

"I think he means the breakup," Raj points out the obvious.

Sheldon finishes chewing a bite of salad. "As I told you before, the breakup is essentially a nonentity. I've assessed the matter and formulated a plan."

Howard shoots Leonard a questioning look, but Leonard only shrugs in return. Sheldon continues, "You see, I finally got some correspondence from Amy that allowed me to figure out the problem. But it's not so much of a problem as it is a misunderstanding. By my estimation, I'd say that we can have the whole thing worked out in about five minutes."

"Oh? Do you think so?" Leonard asks. Sheldon won't be able pick out the skeptical tone in Leonard's voice, but Howard certainly can.

"Indeed. Of course, women can be difficult to predict. It could take up to an hour if she's stubborn."

Howard tosses another tater tot into his mouth and savors the deliciousness of not only his food, but also of Sheldon's tasty naivety. He hopes that the guy really has discovered a way to salvage his relationship. However, it's more likely that he is deluding himself once again. It's juvenile, of course, but Howard can't resist taking some enjoyment out of the little moments when he knows his arrogant friend might wind up humbled.

He swallows and leans in to ask, "So let me get this straight. You, Sheldon Cooper, believe that you have figured out what women want?"

"My toes were a bit nippy this morning. Perhaps hell did freeze overnight," Raj says.

Leonard smiles. "And I seem to recall having a dream about flying piglets."

"I awoke from a nightmare where Donald Trump became an actual, viable presidential candidate," Howard adds, figuring that his is the most improbable statement of all.

Sheldon scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. "Very funny, gentlemen. I'm not talking about all women, just my woman."

"Still not likely," Howard says. "If you think five minutes is enough to give Amy what she has obviously been lacking—"

"Don't get vulgar," Sheldon interjects.

He interrupts him right back. "You must be the only guy on earth who would consider it vulgar to have terrible, virgin sex with your five-year, monogamous girlfriend. If you want vulgar, I can send you a link to some of my web browser history."

"As if I would ever click on web links from you, Howard." Sheldon looks at him with extreme distaste. It's a look he is familiar with. "The five minutes that I'm referring to is not about any particular actions, but rather the length of the conversation necessary for her to stop misinterpreting my intentions."

Howard smiles and succumbs to the temptation to be sarcastic. "I'm sure you'll win her back with your sparkling conversational skills."

Raj speaks up in a more direct manner. "I'm pretty sure it's action that you should be focusing on, dude."

Dismissing them both with a wave of his hand, Sheldon insists, "You all do not know Amy as well as I do. My plan is foolproof."

That's an interesting way to put it. Sheldon is as much of a fool when it comes to love as the rest of them are. Howard wants to tell him that his plan can't be foolproof when it is birthed from the mind of a fool, but that would be needlessly cruel. Besides, sometimes Amy is every bit as looney as Sheldon. Maybe he really will be able to patch things up with her.

* * *

—

* * *

Amy can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she can hear her own frantic breathing. It takes a moment for her mind to catch up to the reality of the situation. She closes her eyes and tries to control her panic.

There's not much hope of calming herself under these conditions, nor is there time to waste on the endeavor. She feels dizzy, and her arms and legs are burning both from injury and the effort of trying to hold on. Her face is inches away from the dry, dusty earth, and instinct compels her to dig her fingernails into it to get a better grip.

Looking up, Amy can see the edge of the trail. The ground slopes sharply, about twenty feet from the ledge to her current precarious position. The rocky surface of her surroundings as well as a few bushes and scraggly trees might prove useful by providing hand and footholds to aid in an upward climb. Unfortunately, she has another problem to deal with before she can even attempt such a thing.

It has saved her life, but Amy now feels trapped by the tight grip of the rocks around her foot. She has to plant her healthy leg firmly against a boulder and hold on for dear life with her good arm just to keep from sliding even further down the slope. With no other appendages available, she is forced to try to free her ankle with the hand attached to her battered wrist.

That hand doesn't seem to want to obey her commands. It takes several fumbling tries and innumerable curses before she is able to wiggle her left foot free. No longer compressed, her thankless ankle throbs in complaint at its freedom.

With that first hurdle cleared, Amy reassesses her situation. She knows she is only a few feet from an even steeper drop-off, and she tells herself that she should not look down under any circumstances. It won't do her any good, and if anything, it will only scare her more.

She does it anyway. A short distance below her feet the angle of the slope increases, becoming almost a straight drop. Trees still cling to it here and there, and jagged rocks jut out, the pointy edges promising her a speedy end if she lets go. The bottom of the canyon lies far below, a peaceful sight from the safety of the trail, but terrifying from her present locale.

For an instant, she wonders what it would feel like to loosen her grip from the side of the hill and complete the rest of the fall. If nothing else, it would be quick. She closes her eyes to shake off the unbidden thought. As a neurobiologist she's familiar with the phenomenon—the call of the void, that strange pondering of what it would be like to throw oneself at death.

The errant thoughts are fleeting. Amy has no intention of giving up. Even faced with the likelihood of a lonely life, there are still many things that she wants to accomplish. Feeling determined, she tightens her left hand's grasp on the rocky slope. Her relationship with Sheldon may be doomed, but she can't stand the thought of never seeing his face again. She blinks back the rush of tears that threaten to make her coming task even more difficult.

Her mind feels fuzzy, making it tough to think clearly. Her phone is in the front of her pack, but there is no hope of retrieving it to call for help. She doesn't have enough limbs to secure her hold and get a hand into her gear at the same time.

Other hikers are few and far between, so it is unlikely that anyone will have heard any of her vocalizations for help. The burning in her arms and legs intensifies with every passing minute, reminding her that she cannot stay down here and hope to hold on indefinitely. She is going to have to find a way to haul herself back up onto the trail on her own.

Forcing herself to think logically, she decides that her best bet is to drop the weight of her pack. Even if she can get back to the trail, she doesn't know if she can get help without her phone. Still, there's no other choice. The fingers of her injured hand fumble at the task as she tries to unlatch the strap around her waist. When it finally gives way, she shrugs out of it one arm at a time. Amy tries not to think about the distant thudding sound that her gear makes as it slams into the rocks, over and over on its journey to the earth far below.

Her thoughts are still jumbled, and the scientific part of Amy's brain calculates the time from her initial release of her pack to the final thump of its landing. Taking into account the Earth's gravitational force, she can estimate the distance that she is at risk of falling. It's not a helpful thing to be thinking about.

Frustrated, Amy wonders just how hard she hit her head. She can feel warm liquid running down her chin and hopes that it is nothing worse than sweat. It would be so much easier not to think at all right now, but she can't allow herself the luxury of passing out, not if she wants to live. She takes a deep breath and pulls herself up to a new foothold.

The searing pain is enough to clear her mind of anything else. She tries to keep her weight more onto her right leg and to pull herself up with her left arm. At times, though, there's no choice but to bear weight on her injured limbs.

Amy cries out with each upward push. It's an involuntary response to the pain that she's enduring, but perhaps it's for the best. Maybe someone will be hiking close enough that they will be able to hear her. About halfway to her destination, she has to pause and swallow hard against the urge to vomit. She can't afford to lose anymore hydration when her drinking water is at the bottom of the canyon with her phone.

Even though she is getting closer and closer to salvation, she can feel her body wanting to give up on her. Her arms and legs feel shaky and weak, like the muscles are about to quit on her. She decides to take another look down, not to give in to the temptation of failure, but to scare herself on purpose, hoping that the resultant surge of adrenaline will be enough to give her one final boost.

It works, and the dizzying vision etches itself into her brain. If she survives, she suspects that the memory of the sight will haunt her dreams, but for now it drives her to push through that final distance.

Within reach of the scrubby brush that marks the edge of the ridge, Amy finds that the ground is dry and eroding underneath her fingertips. It's so crumbly that she understands how both she and the rabbit could have slipped so easily from the edge, and it taunts her yet again by being a useless area to grip and pull herself up.

She spots an old, dead root that appears to be firmly embedded in the earth. It is close, about six inches away from her stretched out arm. With no other reasonable option, she knows that she will have to risk lunging at it. Missing would be fatal, but trying to hold on any longer will soon have her tumbling to her doom anyway.

Unwilling to think about the potential consequences for even one more second, she takes a deep breath and shoves off from both foot holds. Her hand gets a good grip of the root, much easier than she suspected, and after a brief bit of scrabbling, her feet manage to find new supports as well.

With one last burst of strength, Amy lunges again, hauling herself onto the flat earth next to the trail. Desperate to get farther away from the edge, she crawls on her elbows and knees until she reaches the area next to the path.

Feeling safer now, she knows she has done as much as she can. Her breathing and her heart rate begin to slow, and even through the pounding pain in her head and her limbs, she is overcome with gratitude to be alive. The adrenaline is leaving her body, making her shiver, and she feels chilled in spite of the warmth of the day. Unable to stop herself this time, she soon loses the contents of her stomach onto the nearby grass.

After crawling a few more feet to the center of the path, Amy finds that she can't make herself go any further. Lying facedown, she can't even muster enough strength to flip herself over. Her left arm is cradling her sore head, and she looks down to see red droplets drip slowly onto the flat, worn stone beneath her head. That can't be good.

Her thoughts drift one final time, and she wonders what ever happened to the rabbit. Sheldon was right. Goddamn bunnies.

* * *

—

* * *

When Leonard returns home on Wednesday night, he is happy that it is an evening scheduled to be spent at 4B. Sheldon's optimism is better than his incessant pouting, but Leonard can't help but feel wary on behalf of his friend. He hopes everything will work out as well as Sheldon is predicting.

Remaining quiet, he hangs up his coat and comes to sit on Penny's couch. She is seated next to him with her phone pressed to her ear. After a half a minute or so, she sets the phone in her lap and thumbs the button to end her call.

"Amy's not answering her phone," she answers his unspoken question.

He shrugs and stretches down to untie his shoes. "Oh. Well, maybe she is in an area with poor reception."

Penny's eyebrows are scrunched up with worry. "I don't think so. Coverage is good in California, and she's not that far out there."

"Maybe her battery ran out of charge."

"Maybe. She's so careful about that, though. I mean, you know how absurd of a planner Sheldon is?"

Leonard nods, and she continues, "Well, Amy is every bit as obsessive about certain things as he is. She's never missed one of the times that she's supposed to check in with me. Besides, she helped me install a tracking app on my phone that has her GPS coordinates. When I look her up, it still shows her location, so her phone can't be dead, can it?"

"No, I don't think so. Is her location showing that she's where she's supposed to be?"

"Yeah. She's making good time, actually."

"Look, I know that it's easy for us to think of them as kids sometimes, but Amy and Sheldon are both grown adults. There could be any number of reasons why she hasn't called." He smirks. "Maybe she fell victim to some dreaded trail bunnies."

Penny giggles. "Sheldon's such a weirdo."

"If Amy doesn't check in by morning, I'll drive you out to the section of trail where you know she's supposed to be. If we go out right now, it will be dark by the time we get there, and it would be nearly impossible to spot her."

"You're probably right that she's fine," Penny says. She flops her head onto his shoulder, and Leonard pulls her in close.

He begins to tell her about his day at work, but he can sense that she isn't listening. That's not unusual. His wife isn't exactly captivated by experimental physics. Still, she's a good actress, and she is capable of feigning interest better than this. He suspects that she remains distracted by her concern for Amy. He stops talking and sits in silence with her for a moment, stroking her upper arm in the hopes that she will find it soothing.

Eventually, Penny pulls away from him and looks at her phone display once again. She bites her lip and turns her head to look at him. "But Leonard, what if she's not okay?"

* * *

—-


	8. Chapter 8

—

* * *

CHAPTER 8

* * *

Feelings of nervousness make it difficult for Penny to stand still. She shifts her weight from foot to foot while she waits for Leonard to open the door to 4A.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" she asks.

Leonard looks up from where he's fitting the key into the lock and says, "I can't think of anyone else who has a complete emergency kit, can you? We're going to need the bright headlamps, if nothing else."

"What about Sheldon? Should we tell him?"

Leonard sighs. "I'm not sure. If we do, he will insist on coming with us. As is always the case, having him along would make everything more difficult. But the idea of keeping it from him seems wrong. I think he has a right to know, don't you?"

Penny nods. He'd never forgive them for not telling him, and he might even turn out to be helpful. There's also a bit of a meddling factor in wanting Sheldon to accompany them. As far as she is concerned, those two need to sit down, pretend to be adults for once, and have a freaking discussion.

When they swing the door open, she is surprised to find that all of the lights are off. She marches over to Sheldon's room, but the only eyes that look back at her belong to his various superhero paraphernalia. Her previous discussion with Leonard is moot because Sheldon isn't home.

"Didn't he get a ride back from work with you?"

"No, he told me at lunch that he had planned to take the afternoon off. I'm not sure where he could be at 8:00 at night."

In his absence, they scurry about, rummaging for their needed supplies. Penny stuffs her backpack with water, some granola bars, a few blankets, and Sheldon's well-stocked first aid kit. Leonard locates the headlamps and flashlights as well as some spare batteries, items that are all easy to find due to the apartment's extensive organizational system.

"What should we do about Sheldon?" he asks.

"That's one of life's never-ending questions. In this case, I'm not sure. I don't want to wait to check on Amy, though."

It's difficult to fit so many bulky things into her backpack, and Penny has to shove everything in hard to have any hope of getting it to close. She has finally managed to work the zipper around the overstuffed bag when Sheldon walks through the front door.

"Hello," he greets them both, tossing his keys into the bowl near the door.

"Hi, Sheldon," Penny says, trying to keep her voice sounding casual. Unfortunately, Leonard says 'hi' at the exact same time, and taken together, she thinks that they sound anything but casual.

Sheldon is as oblivious as ever, though. "Pasadena sure does have a lot of colorful characters out on the street in the evening. There was one very insistent fellow out there tonight who was trying to get me to buy pots. I've never seen anyone so gung-ho about gardening."

Penny pinches the bridge of her nose. She could explain that the guy was trying to sell him some marijuana, but it's not worth the aggravation. There is too much else to worry about.

"Why are you getting home so late?" Leonard asks.

Sheldon hangs his coat and messenger bag over the back of his desk chair. "I was out for a walk. I figured that in doing so I might be able to understand the appeal of Amy's little outdoor extravaganza."

He walks into the kitchen and fills a glass with water. The action doesn't stop him from continuing to talk. "Fresh air, the great outdoors, exercise—it's all supposed to be good for you, but I don't know. I don't think it will catch on."

"I'm not sure that walking on city sidewalks counts as getting fresh air and experiencing nature," Penny replies.

"Perhaps not. And as a mode of travel, walking is clearly inferior to taking a train." Sheldon steps back into the living room but stops when he sees the headlamps and flashlights laid out on the couch. "Playing a game? Shadow puppets?" he guesses.

Leonard looks at him with pity and shakes his head. They are going to have to tell him.

Sheldon takes another guess. "I'm not interrupting some kind of kinky, newlywed coitus thing, am I?"

His wrinkled nose indicates his distaste of the idea, and Penny frowns at him. "What? No. Jeez." She clears her throat. "Look, sweetie, I think you should sit down."

To her surprise, he obeys.

"We have a little situation," she begins, fidgeting with a loose thread on her backpack. It's easier than looking at him while she explains. "You see, Amy was supposed to check in with me this afternoon, and she never called. I tried calling her, but she didn't answer."

When Sheldon doesn't respond right away, she glances up to try to figure out what he's thinking. His forehead is wrinkled and his eyebrows are scrunched together, an expression that gives away his concern for Amy.

Leonard picks up the explanation. "Penny has Amy's GPS phone coordinates, so we're going to drive out there tonight and make sure that she's okay. As far as we can tell, she's right where she should be. There's no reason to worry too much, but we thought we should be cautious and check up on her just in case."

Sheldon looks from Leonard to Penny and then back again. She half expects him to start ranting at her about how she's known Amy's location the entire time and kept it from him. The look on his face, however, hasn't turned into anger. If anything, he looks more concerned than ever, even after Leonard's attempts to offer reassurance.

Reaching over to grab a flashlight, Sheldon practically leaps up to his feet. His voice sounds both shaky and determined as he insists, "We have to find her. I'm going with you."

* * *

—

* * *

Trying to hike an unfamiliar trail can be a challenge. Hiking one in the dark is an even greater challenge. Penny glances over to her two out-of-shape companions. It's slow going.

All three of them have been making their way quietly along the path, and at this point, she is beginning to miss Sheldon's usual babble. He isn't one to suffer through anything in silence, and it makes her wonder what is going through his mind right now. She wants to tell herself that everything is going to be fine, but it's hard to act like everything is normal when Sheldon is behaving so strangely.

He was even quiet when she was driving them out here. She'd tried to get him going by not using her turn signal, and even that golden opportunity for a lecture on traffic safety wasn't enough to jar him from his inner thoughts.

Walking through the outdoors at night, she imagines that Sheldon would typically be keeping up some kind of running commentary about the potential dangers of their expedition. She would've expected complaints about wildlife, insects, and maybe a mathematical calculation of the probability of tripping on a tree root or something. It doesn't happen now, of course, and his ongoing silence only adds to the overall eeriness of traipsing through the wilderness at night.

Amy's coordinates indicate that she is about a mile or so down the trail from Agua Dulce. It's not too far from where Penny met up with her last weekend. Having taken part of this path before, she has warned the others that it is important to stick to the trail. At her side, she can hear Leonard's labored breathing. He doesn't ask to stop, but in her peripheral vision, she can see him dig into his pocket for his inhaler. A few puffs later and he sounds much better.

She doesn't see or hear any other hikers as they move through the wilderness, and even though she is traveling with two other people, there is something about this dark, quiet place that makes her feel lonely. It seems like they have been walking for a long time, and she could really use the distraction, so she pulls out her phone to check their progress on her tracking app.

The small dot that represents their location is on top of the dot that indicates Amy's. She halts her forward motion. They should be able to see her from here. She turns around in a slow circle, looking into the distance with the aid of her headlamp.

"What is it?" Sheldon asks. His voice sounds unnatural in the quiet stillness.

"It's… well, she should be right near here," Penny replies, gesturing to the area around them. She zooms in on her map to get a more precise sense of their relative positions, and when she does so, she notices something peculiar. "Actually, it looks like she should be about forty yards that way. But, um…"

She points to the west, gesturing into the distance, not wanting to explain any further. The guys step up behind her and look at her screen from over her shoulder.

Sheldon's voice sounds unsteady. "She—she can't be over there."

Before Penny can stop him, he takes a step off the path.

"Sheldon!"

She lunges a few steps forward and grabs his elbow to yank him back. In the distance, their flashlights and headlamps reflect nothing at all. They have to tilt their light sources down at a steep angle to reveal the sloping topography of the land. There's no sign of anyone.

"She can't be down there," Sheldon whispers again. Then he raises his voice and shouts, "Amy! Amy! Amy!"

Apparently, it is important to call out for someone in a set of three, even in an emergency. His voice makes a faint echo in the distance, turning his call of three into several more. Penny listens for any kind of response, but she can't detect anything other than the nervous, rapid breathing of the three of them.

When she turns back around, the bright light of her headlamp bounces off of Leonard's unmoving form. She can only see his back, but he is staring down at the ground with his phone pressed to his ear.

He begins to speak to whomever he has called. "We'd like to report a missing person."

Penny steps around him, and she notices that his wide eyes are fixed to a spot on the ground. She follows the line of his vision and the beam of his flashlight. A grotesque puddle of blood sits in stark contrast to the arid earth around it. Amy, however, is nowhere to be seen.

She focuses her mind on the cadence of Leonard's voice while she tries not to panic. Please don't let that be from Amy.

"She's missing just off the Pacific Crest Trail. I can give you our coordinates. We can't find her anywhere, but…there's—there's blood. A lot of blood…"

* * *

—

* * *

For what must be the hundredth time in his career, Sheriff's Deputy Jack DiSalvo finds himself wishing that people could have their disasters during business hours. The call came in just after ten PM, and Jack's shift was due to end at eleven. A relaxing cup of tea and some Judge Judy before bed would've been such a nice way to end his day. Divorced and living alone at forty-nine years old, that's about as exciting as his free time gets.

Huffing and puffing at the exertion of navigating the terrain, Jack regrets having eaten that chili-cheese dog for dinner. He's getting too old for this shit.

In the distance, he can see the spooky appearance of roving flashlights, so he knows he must be getting close. The only way to get to this location is to hike on down the trail. It's going to be a pain in the ass to put together a rescue team out here. Back at the station, he had called for a K9 unit. It's unlikely that they'll be able to find many clues in the pitch blackness of night, but maybe a dog will be able to pick up a scent trail.

Several bright lights turn in his direction, and he finds himself face to face with the three folks who must have called in the missing person. He introduces himself and asks, "So, who are you three, and what can you all tell me about the situation here?"

The short, curly-haired fellow with glasses responds first, "I'm Leonard Hofstadter, and this is my wife Penny and my roommate Sheldon Cooper. Our friend has been out here hiking, and when she didn't check in with us today, we came out here to look for her."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "You came out here in the dark, just hoping to stumble upon her? Did you have some reason to suspect that she's in danger?"

The pretty blonde woman responds, "Amy never misses checking in with me. She came out here on her own, but before she left, she installed an app on my phone that shows me her location, so we know exactly where she should be. But we followed that to here, and…"

Her voice trails off, and he sees her swipe at her eyes while she gestures to the ground with her other hand. Jack squats down close to the earth to examine a red splotch of congealing liquid. If this is from the woman in question, then she can't have gotten too far from here under her own power.

He sighs and rubs his chin. "The GPS from her phone led you here, so have you retrieved that device?"

Penny closes her eyes, and he sees two more tears squeeze out. "No. The, um, the exact coordinates show that her phone should be a little bit west of here, but…"

Silent until now, the third member of the group, Sheldon, stands up from his perch on a nearby boulder. He finishes his friend's sentence. "Google satellite images show that to the west is a severe slope that ends with an even deeper descent into a canyon." His voice sounds matter-of-fact, but it starts to break when he adds, "But she can't be down there."

Jack walks over to the edge of the trail and peeks over the ridge. It's pretty steep, and he can see the area even farther out where the land seems to vanish altogether. He shines his flashlight along the surface of the land, but he sees no sign of a person on the rocky upper slope.

"We're going to need to get down there, but I'm afraid it can't be tonight."

Sheldon objects, "But she's in trouble now!"

Jack tries to juggle his flashlight, notebook, and pen. It's not easy to take notes under these conditions. He looks up when he hears Sheldon's plea.

"We're going to do everything that we can, sir. I assure you of that."

Not sounding reassured, the tall man continues, "Someone needs to get down there right now."

"Look, I understand your sense of urgency, but it's a difficult area to access, and it's all but impossible in the dark. Our best hope of finding her alive is to check the areas near here on the trail." At the word 'alive', Jack can see the tall man's eyes widen. Perhaps it was a harsh thing to say, but it is the truth. If the woman has fallen to the bottom of that canyon, then it doesn't matter if they can't find her right away because she won't be alive.

He continues to address the distressed group, "I called in a K9 unit and a few backup officers. With any luck, the dog will pick up her scent and lead us to her. If she's hurt and disoriented, then she may have simply wandered off. If that's the case, we'll find her soon."

It's the most optimistic scenario that Jack can come up with right now, even if he doesn't quite believe it himself. The three friends seem a bit comforted by the idea, so he takes advantage of their momentary calm to warn them, "When my support arrives, I'm going to have to ask you all to come with me to the station."

"But we want to help search," the blonde woman insists.

"Ma'am, the best way for you three to help is to come with me and answer some questions. Finding a missing person is like solving a puzzle. We need you guys to help us gather the pieces."

They don't look convinced, and Jack can't blame them for wanting to take a more hands-on approach. He decides to be even more blunt. "Having untrained people out here in the dark is a hazard. We want to spend our time focused on finding this woman and securing the scene to look for clues. But we can't do that if we have to watch out for you three."

Penny and Leonard both nod, even if it does look begrudging.

Sheldon, however, just stares at him.

"Amy," he says.

Jack looks right back at him and waits for further explanation.

"Not 'this woman', not 'missing person'. She has a name. She's Amy."

* * *

—


	9. Chapter 9

—

* * *

CHAPTER 9

* * *

Leonard fidgets in an uncomfortable, high-backed wooden chair. He sits across from Deputy DiSalvo, feeling wary that the man has asked to speak to him and his friends separately. The deputy's office is small, but his desk and filing cabinets are tidy, so the room doesn't feel overly stuffed. The deputy himself is about Leonard's height, but he has a more rotund belly, a fringe of greying hair, and a mustache that hasn't been in style for decades.

Smoking is not allowed in the building, yet somehow everything still smells like stale cigarettes. The scent soon becomes masked by the more pleasant aroma of coffee as the deputy pushes a cup across his desk. Leonard is nervous and afraid for Amy, but he gratefully accepts the beverage. It's two o'clock in the morning, and he wants to be able to help as much as possible. The caffeine should be a welcome addition to his bloodstream.

"Sir, have you heard anything yet?" Leonard asks, anxious to hear news about the search for Amy.

"I'm afraid not, but it may take them a while. Searching in the dark is a complicated process. We may not find much until morning. By the way, feel free to call me Jack."

"Okay."

"I know this is a difficult moment, and I appreciate you folks coming down here to help us out. So for starters, how do you know Amy?"

"Um, well, she met Sheldon five years ago. They spent a lot of time together at our apartment, and I became her friend a short time later."

"Are the two of them romantically involved?"

Scratching the day's stubble that has grown on his chin, Leonard has to think about that one. "I guess you could call it that. Romantic seems like the wrong word, but yes, they are boyfriend and girlfriend. Well, actually I suppose I should say 'were'. Amy ended things right before she left to go on this trip."

"I see." Jack raises an eyebrow and starts writing in a notebook that sits on his lap. "So, does she often go out hiking?"

He scoffs. "No. As far as I know, athletic endeavors aren't Amy's forte."

"Why do you suppose she chose to go out on this trail, then?"

It feels weird to talk about his friends' personal lives, but under the circumstances, Leonard supposes that it's best to be straightforward. "Sheldon was Amy's first real relationship, and they'd been together for a long time. If I had to guess, I'd say that she found the breakup difficult and wanted to take a vacation that would provide her with a distraction. I can't really say for sure, though."

The deputy nods and jots down some notes. "Did she seem upset at the time she left?"

"I don't know. I was in Las Vegas when they broke up and didn't see her before she left. If she was as hurt by the breakup as Sheldon has been this past week, then yes."

"So, since you didn't speak with her during that time, you don't have any sense of whether she might have been inclined to harm herself or not, do you?"

Leonard is startled by the mere suggestion that Amy might do something like that. But it also occurs to him that he doesn't know her very well at all. Other than her love for Sheldon, her terrible fashion sense, and her surprising friendship with Penny, he knows little else about her as a person. Certainly not enough to know the answer to a question like that. It bothers him that he can't answer something as important as this, and it makes him wonder if he should've been a better friend to her.

"I—I don't think so. But no, I don't know her well enough to be certain."

Jack clears his throat and leans back into his office chair, scribbling away at his note pad. The chair tips at a precarious angle, and Leonard wonders if the deputy is at all worried about it falling over completely. With wheels at the base, tipping it like that is a risky gambit. Leonard can't stop himself from envisioning the balding man's chair rolling out from under him, leaving the guy sprawled out on the ground.

It's a jarring change from his previous train of thought, and he feels guilty about his lack of focus at a time like this. He supposes that it's natural for his mind to want to think about something mundane under these stressful circumstances, but he chides himself internally for the lapse.

"I'd like to know more about Amy's relationship with Sheldon. You said that she broke things off. Do you know why she would do that?"

"I think she was frustrated with the pace of their relationship. Sheldon's not exactly the easiest person to be close to."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean by that. You said before that you don't think of their relationship as romantic. Why not?"

That's not something that Leonard feels comfortable explaining, not that he would be able to anyway. "I suppose it's romantic to them, in its own weird way. Beyond that, I think it's best that you ask Sheldon if you want to know something like that."

"Fair enough, but tell me this much. Would you say that he was in love with her?"

Leonard doesn't even have to think about the answer to that question. "Without a doubt. And I would say that he still is. When she broke things off, Sheldon seemed blindsided by her decision, and he spent all of the past week trying to track her down so that he could attempt to set things right."

"Was he angry about the breakup and the fact that she took off?"

"I wouldn't say angry. Upset, yes. I've noticed lots of little indications that he is stressed out. Sheldon has a rigid routine, and he's been deviating from it since she left. He's not eating or sleeping the way that he usually does. But from talking to him, I'd say he has also been in a lot of denial. He is certain that their breakup is temporary and that they'll be back together soon."

"Why would he think that?"

"He believes that they have had a simple misunderstanding. I don't know about what exactly, and before you ask, no, I don't know what he's planning to do about it."

Jack turns the page in his notebook, and Leonard takes advantage of the momentary break to have another sip of coffee. After writing a few things down, Jack asks, "When's the last time that any of you had communication with Amy?"

"Penny got a text from her on Tuesday evening but didn't hear anything from her today."

Leonard remembers that Wednesday has now faded into Thursday. "Well, I guess I mean yesterday."

"Did you see Sheldon on Wednesday?"

"Yeah. I mean, we both work at Cal Tech, and we had lunch together like we usually do."

"And he wasn't acting weird in any way?"

"No weirder than he always does."

That earns him another eyebrow raise. "Oh? And how weird is he usually?"

"I don't… I didn't mean that in a bad way. Sheldon's just a very, um, unique person. He's a genius, but he doesn't always relate well to other people. The words 'arrogant' and 'annoying' have been used. You'll see what I mean when you talk to him. But once you get to know him, he is all of those things, but he's also a good person who cares a lot more than people think he does."

"So it was an ordinary day for both of you?"

"Well, I suppose Sheldon's plan to take the afternoon off wasn't ordinary. He's usually too wrapped up in his work to even consider that kind of thing."

Leonard is starting to wonder why this guy keeps asking so many questions about Sheldon. It seems both strange and irrelevant.

"Tell me about this afternoon and evening."

"Okay. I finished work and got home around 7:00, and that's when Penny told me that she hadn't heard from Amy. We went over to get some flashlights from Sheldon and see if he wanted to come with us."

Jack looks up from his notebook. "Do you know of anyone else who has recently had any kind of fights or disagreements with Ms. Fowler?"

In the instant that the deputy says 'anyone else', Leonard realizes exactly why the man's questions have had such a slant towards his best friend. It seems impossible that someone could suspect Sheldon of any kind of crime, especially with regards to Amy. He looks right into the investigator's eyes and says, "I don't know of anyone who has had any kind of fight with her at all, much less anyone who would harm her. And that includes Sheldon."

Rubbing his mustache, Jack responds, "It is normal in a case like this to examine all of the possibilities, and we like to begin with those closest to the person in question. I don't necessarily believe that a crime has even been committed here, but it's important that we consider any sources of strife in Amy's life. I hope you understand."

Leonard folds his arms across his chest, not placated in the least by those words. He narrows his eyes at the man who is supposed to be helping them. "And I hope _you_ understand that Sheldon loves Amy, and so do the rest of us."

* * *

—-

* * *

It's not cold today, but Penny feels a phantom chill in the air anyway. She rubs her hands together for warmth and tries to pass the time by eavesdropping on Leonard's conversation next door, but she can't quite make out what they're saying.

Sheldon is in another empty office to her left, and once again she finds herself wishing that she could hear him jibber-jabber. He probably wouldn't, though, even if he were in here with her. The trip out to the trail was spent in nervous silence, and there's no way Sheldon's feeling any less awful about things now. Penny isn't either.

After ten minutes or so, Deputy DiSalvo opens the door and takes a seat across the table from her. He offers her a cup of coffee, but she doesn't think that it would sit well in her queasy stomach. Uninterested in any kind of small talk, Penny prefers to cut to the chase.

"Did you find Amy yet?"

The deputy sniffs and says, "No one has called in from the site just yet. However, I did have someone contact the hospitals and the morgue, and I can tell you that no one has been admitted who matches Amy's description."

Penny taps her foot, trying to work out her nervous energy, but her movements halt and she closes her eyes at the word 'morgue'. She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that the important part of that news is that Amy is not there.

"Can you tell me a little bit about Amy and your relationship to her?"

She gathers herself, feeling relieved to have the distraction of a new line of conversation to pull herself away from her previous thoughts. It's not easy to think of a succinct way to describe her unusual friend.

"Amy is one of my closest friends. She's super smart and works as a neuro-scientific something or other. I've never known anyone who is as tenacious and good-hearted as she is."

DiSalvo gives her a pointed look. "Would you say that she is happy?"

The question takes Penny aback. "She has been acting a bit weird over the last few months. Well, she's always a little peculiar, but she's been kind of moody. I mean, anyone who's crazy enough to date Sheldon is bound to have some rough days, but—"

"What's crazy about dating Sheldon?"

Even under these terrible circumstances, the question makes her snort. "What isn't crazy about it? Sheldon's not exactly a typical kind of boyfriend."

"Oh? In what way?"

"In a lot of ways. He tends to place more importance on his work than he does on anything else. His attempts at compliments tend to come out sounding more like insults. I guess he's affectionate in his own way, or at least I know he tries very hard for her, but…"

It's difficult to come up with the right words to summarize those two. Their relationship is so different from anything that Penny has ever experienced. Still, it has always seemed to suit them.

"But what?" the deputy prompts.

"I don't know. They both love each other, but Amy tends to want to progress their relationship while Sheldon often holds back. Like, they have dates, and he even hugs and kisses her, but it's all preplanned in this ridiculous contract he had her sign."

The deputy looks perplexed. "A contract for dating?"

"Yup. It has all kinds of things about their relationship in it. Rights, responsibilities, and restrictions."

"That sounds quite controlling. Was Amy okay with it?"

Penny manages a brief smile at the thought of how ecstatic Amy had been at the beginning. "Originally, she was thrilled about it. She was just so happy to have him as her boyfriend. Over time, though, I think she found the restrictions to be more and more annoying."

"Does Sheldon always dictate their interactions?"

"What? No, no, definitely not. They've always compromised pretty well. They both do each other's weird sciency stuff together and take turns cooking and picking movies and stuff. Amy is no pushover."

"Leonard told me that they broke up. Do you know what went wrong?"

That's a tough one. Even though she has spoken to Amy, Penny still doesn't understand it. But she's never entirely understood what goes on between them anyway. "A little bit. I think she started to see Sheldon's, um, reluctance as a kind of rejection. She was frustrated, which makes sense because 'frustrating' might as well be his middle name."

The deputy looks up from where he has been busily taking notes. "Oh?"

"Yeah, you'll see what I mean when you talk to him some more. Anyway, Amy told me she thought Sheldon might be able to find someone he'd be more interested in."

"I see. Do you think either of them are involved with someone else at this time?"

Penny scoffs. "Just no. That's ridiculous. And you know, I told Amy that she's wrong too. I get that she's impatient, but I tried to remind her of how much Sheldon has grown. That man hates change, but he has changed so much with her and for her. I was hoping that this trip away would help her clear her mind and be able to see that again."

The room falls quiet, the only remaining noise being the sound of DiSalvo turning a page in his notebook. Having someone to talk to beats sitting in this cold room by herself, but she can't help but wonder why he's so interested in Amy's relationship with Sheldon. "How are these questions supposed to help you find her?"

He looks up and answers, "It's valuable to get a sense of what's been going on in her life so close to the time she went missing. From what I've heard, this breakup with Sheldon was a major life event for her. It helps us narrow down our guesses about what she might be thinking, what she might have done, or where she might have gone."

Before Penny gets a chance to figure out what he means, DiSalvo picks up their conversation and says, "Okay. So earlier you said that Amy was a bit moody. I'm not clear on what that means. Do you think she could be depressed or otherwise at risk of self-harm?"

Well, that must be what he meant by 'what she might have done'. The idea is sobering. Penny sits and thinks about it for several seconds before she can come up with a response.

"I know how much Amy loves and is devoted to Sheldon, and I'm certain that the breakup has been devastating for her. But one thing I can say for sure is that Amy is an optimist at heart. I think that this hiking trip was, in large part, an effort to stay positive and move forward."

"You say that she was devastated. How was Sheldon after Amy broke up with him?"

Penny raises an eyebrow. "Not good. I mean, he loves her—way more than I ever would've thought him capable of. He's been pretty heartbroken."

"How so?"

"He doesn't eat unless we remind him to, and he even missed some time at work, which is something that never happens. He also stalked her social media accounts and tried to hack into her iPhone."

Penny watches while DiSalvo continues to write notes into his little book. She hopes that her last words didn't come out wrong. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to use the word 'stalk' when speaking to an officer of the law. When the deputy next speaks, she realizes that he did, in fact, get the wrong impression.

"Have Sheldon and Amy ever had any kind of physical altercations, or has she indicated to you that she might be afraid of him in any way?"

Aghast, Penny says, "No! That's insane. He would never hurt her."

Her mind scrambles for the words to make this guy understand. "Seriously, like, if there's a bug in his apartment, Sheldon has to come over and ask me to go squish it for him. That man is incapable of physically harming someone. Besides, he was in Pasadena all day, not out on a hiking trail."

"All day?"

Penny snaps her mouth shut. She knows that Sheldon took the afternoon off from work and that he arrived home late. There's no way she's going to offer that particular tidbit now, though.

The deputy clears his throat and says, "Okay. It's very helpful to know all of this. If we can get these things out of the way, then it will free us to concentrate on other possibilities of what may have happened to Amy. Under the circumstances, it is most likely that she is simply lost or injured at the hands of Mother Nature. But when we find signs of blood like that, we have to consider everything. Our first loyalty here is to Amy."

Picking at her fingernails, she has no argument for that.

"So, uh, how about the rest of Amy's friends, family, and co-workers? Does she get along well with everyone, as far as you know?"

Penny crosses her arms and sighs. She feels hesitant about continuing this conversation, but at least this question isn't about Sheldon. "I think her mom loves her a lot, but she is overbearing and still thinks of Amy as a child. As a result, Amy doesn't see her too often. She doesn't talk much about the rest of her family. As for friends and co-workers, I'm not aware of any trouble."

In all of their girls' nights, Amy rarely speaks about any of those things. Penny and Bernadette bring up their families and complain about co-workers, but Amy just listens. She never gave it much thought, but now Penny wonders what kinds of things her friend has been keeping to herself. She says a quick, silent prayer of hope that she will get the chance to ask her someday soon.

The deputy nods and writes a few more things down. Even when she squints, she can't read his sloppy handwriting. When he looks back up to address her, she glances away, lest she be caught trying to snoop.

"I really appreciate your help, Mrs. Hofstadter. We're going to do everything that we can to find your friend."

* * *

—

* * *

Down to one last person to interview, Jack is anxious to speak to this ex-boyfriend of Amy's that he's been hearing so much about. His curiosity is even strong enough to keep the urge to sleep at bay. He's going to have to be out early to deal with the search again in the light of day, and he'll need at least a few hours of sleep to be functional, but for the moment he feels wide awake.

Out of the three of them, this guy looks to be in the worst shape. His hair is mussed, his face is pale, and his eyes are rimmed with red. Jack has seen a lot of people at the worst moments of their lives, and he can tell that this is a bad one for this fellow. To top it all off, the dude stinks.

"Can I get you some coffee?" he offers, hoping that it might perk the guy up and drown out the stench of this room at the same time. Sheldon is slouched in his chair, staring into a garbage can.

"I promised my mother that I wouldn't do drugs, but on a day like this, why not?"

Unsure of what the hell that means, Jack scratches his head and steps out of the office. He walks down the hallway to the coffee area, and pours a cup for each of them. When he returns, he hands one lidded styrofoam vessel to Sheldon.

When Sheldon stretches his shaky hands out to accept the cup, Jack notices a makeshift bandage on one of his fingers.

"How'd you cut your hand? It looks like it's still bleeding."

Sheldon has taken only one sip of coffee, but he quickly sets the cup down in front of him and tucks his injured hand out of sight. With his eyes closed tight, he begins to sweat, and Jack starts to wonder if the guy is going to faint.

"I don't know. I didn't notice it until we got here. It probably came from hiking in the dark. Nature is a cruel and heartless bully." Sheldon tips his head down, and his breathing pattern sounds odd.

"Are you alright?"

"I threw up in your garbage can," he admits. "I don't do well with blood."

So that's what that smell is. Jack rummages through a few desk drawers and locates both a band-aid and some room deodorizer. He sprays the room with a floral spray, but it doesn't work all that well. Now the room just smells like vomit mixed with sickly sweet flowers.

He hands the bandage over to Sheldon, who pulls the blood-tinged paper towel off his index finger and hastily covers it again with the flesh-colored band-aid. Having completed this task, Sheldon sits back, breathing as if he's just completed a marathon. It looks like the guy does indeed have a bit of a phobia.

Or then again, maybe not. Maybe he is upset about something else.

"You haven't asked me about the search for Amy," Jack says. It's not a question, but he figures it will provoke a response. At the very least, it should distract Sheldon from his bleeding finger.

"If you had found her, you would have told me by now."

That's a fair point. "We called the local hospitals, medical centers… and the morgue."

"She's not there," Sheldon snaps.

Jack raises an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

Like a stubborn kid, he folds his arms and insists, "She's just not."

His logic is that of a child as well. Unfortunately, it is difficult to spot the difference between the protestations of a man in denial and the accidental revelations of a man with a guilty conscience, and Jack isn't sure what to make of the man's odd response.

"Oh, so you know where she is, then?"

"What? No, of course I don't."

Jack rubs his own tired eyes and decides to point out how ridiculous all of this sounds. "I've heard that you're a highly educated scientist. 'She's just not' doesn't sound like a very scientific assessment of the situation. Why would you say such a thing unless you do know something about where she is?"

The distraction of the conversation seems to have settled Sheldon's erratic breathing. He shrugs. "Intuition is superstitious nonsense. Still, if she were dead, I would know. She's not. Therefore, she must be out there somewhere. I wish you would stop wasting all of our time so that we could go find her."

Dealing with distressed family members in the midst of a crisis is never easy. Neither is dealing with the growing guilt of a man who has committed a crime and whose world is crumbling around him. Jack narrows his eyes, still unsure of which kind of man he has before him.

Ignoring Sheldon's complaint, he sets about asking his preset questions. "Tell me about Amy. What's your relationship to her?"

The question earns him a scoff. "This is a colossal waste of time. How is discussing my relationship with Amy going to help us find her?"

Jack stares at him. He's not going to let him get away with answering a question with a question. After a few seconds of silence, Jack wins the staring contest and Sheldon begins a more helpful response.

"Amy is my girlfriend. We've known each other for five years. She makes my life better by just about any measure that you could think of."

The reverent, wistful tone of his voice when he talks about his girlfriend is unmistakeable. Jack almost feels bad about what he has to say next.

"I heard that she recently ended your relationship."

"We've had a misunderstanding. There are some things that she doesn't know, but I'm certain that I can make her understand."

"Understand what?"

Sheldon gives him a look of impatience. His soft voice has returned to its previous arrogant inflection. "That we belong together."

"How do you plan to do that?"

He looks at Jack as if he thinks the officer is stupid. "I'm going to talk to her, obviously. Amy's a smart woman, and she understands me. Everything will be fine."

Leonard and Penny's descriptions of Sheldon's interpersonal skills seem more and more apt as he talks to the man. Jack decides to try to shake him out of his momentary confidence. "Has Amy been showing any signs of emotional distress? Do you believe she would be at any risk of causing herself harm?"

It works, and Sheldon fidgets and wrinkles his brow with uncertainty. "She's—she's been mad at me recently. Frustrated. I have that affect on people quite often, for some reason. It's not usually a problem with Amy, but…"

Jack has a drink of coffee and waits for him to finish thinking it over.

At last, he shakes his head. "No, I don't think that she would hurt herself. I can't believe that she would."

Sheldon's hands are trembling again. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have given a jittery man coffee. It's in both of their interests to keep him calm, so Jack tries to offer some small measure of consolation. "Okay. For what it's worth, your friends said they don't believe she would do that either."

As for Jack, he's not so sure that he agrees with the three of them. He gives Sheldon a moment to gather himself and take a few more shaky sips of coffee before he digs for more information. "Tell me about your day. I know it's been a long one."

After setting down his cup, Sheldon hugs his arms around his waist. "It started off as just a normal day at work. I had the afternoon off, which I spent working on something for Amy. Then I went for a walk. When I got back, Penny and Leonard informed me that she had not checked in at her usual time."

"What were you working on for Amy?"

"That's private."

"I won't tell her."

"It's personal and irrelevant to finding her."

He decides to let it go for now. "Where'd you walk to?"

"Nowhere. I just wanted to see if I could understand the appeal of taking a long, aimless stroll. It hasn't been entirely clear to me why she chose to go on this excursion." Looking confused all of a sudden, he asks, "Why does any of that matter?"

Jack shrugs. "It probably doesn't."

That's a lie. It may turn out to matter a great deal. At this point, it is clear that he is looking at one of two very different possibilities here. Either Sheldon is an innocent man who is deeply upset about his missing ex-girlfriend, or he is a guilty man who's regretting a terrible act.

Maybe Sheldon's afternoon walk involved a drive out to the Pacific Crest Trail first. Maybe he succeeded at stalking Amy via her phone and couldn't wait to try to 'make her understand'. Maybe she was not receptive to the man's newest attempts to dictate the terms of their relationship. Maybe they will find her lying at the bottom of that canyon in the morning, not due to an accident, but due to an impulsive shove. Heartbreak and unrequited love have ignited the temper in otherwise nonviolent men before. This guy would not be the first to have done such a thing.

Looking annoyed by the current line of questioning, Sheldon shakes his head and crosses his right leg over his left. As he does so, Jack notices the bright whiteness of his sneakers. This man doesn't seem like the sort who gets out to exercise much, so it's no surprise that his shoes look brand new. But it isn't the glaring white that catches Jack's eye the most. Instead, it is the traces of blood on the toe of his right foot.

"It looks like you stepped in something."

Sheldon looks down and his eyes widen when he sees the stain on his shoe. He kicks both sneakers off his feet and then closes his eyes, hugging his arms around his midsection again. "I-I must've stepped in…"

It doesn't seem like he is going to be able to finish his sentence. Jack hopes that the young man won't start hyperventilating again.

"I'm going to need you to leave the shoes here when you leave. Your friends too."

Sheldon nods and bends at the waist, curling his body towards his knees. It's an obvious attempt to comfort himself, which becomes even more clear when he starts rocking back and forth in his chair. He looks pale and sweaty again, so Jack nudges the garbage can closer to him just in case.

There's no doubt that he's suffering a great deal. Unfortunately, Jack still can't tell if he is overwhelmed by fear for his missing loved one, or if his physical reactions are caused by guilt wracking his body as well as his mind.

Before he can even consider asking anything further, Jack's phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and steps out of the room and down the hallway to answer it.

The report from the field is not very helpful. It's not very hopeful either. Amy has not been found, and the scent that the dogs picked up led from the area of blood to a spot off the trail in the direction of the canyon. Jack runs his hand through the little bit of hair that remains on his balding head and tells his fellow deputy that they can resume the search at seven AM. Both sleep and daylight are a necessity at this point.

* * *

—-


	10. Chapter 10

—

* * *

CHAPTER 10

* * *

When Penny's alarm goes off at noon, she slaps at it with her eyes closed. It feels like she fell asleep only a few minutes ago. She pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to remember what bout of heavy drinking could have left her feeling so out of sorts at this time of day.

As her mind clears, she remembers. Amy. Penny snaps wide awake in an instant.

It had taken several hours of cajoling, a glass of warm milk spiked with Benadryl, and endless rounds of 'Soft Kitty' to get Sheldon to go to sleep earlier this morning. In the end, it was logic that finally made him stop fighting it. Leonard had pointed out that none of them would be able to help search for Amy if they did not sleep first.

Penny hauls her exhausted body out of bed and sees that she is still dressed in yesterday's clothing. Leonard is not in their room, so she is not surprised when she finds him sitting in the living room with an already awake Sheldon. Both men are showered, dressed, and appear ready to face the day, but there is a haggard weariness about them both, making her wonder how much sleep either of them got.

She walks up next to her husband and sets a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Has there been any news?"

"Yes and no," Leonard answers. "They haven't found Amy, but since they've been checking down in the canyon, that's a good thing."

Penny picks at her fingernails, a nervous habit of hers from as far back as she can remember. "How can not finding her possibly be good?"

"It would have been an unsurvivable fall," Sheldon replies. His voice sounds flat and stoic, and he doesn't look at either her or Leonard, instead continuing to stare off into space. It is the familiar sight of Sheldon when he is deep in thought, which she supposes is preferable to the shaky mess he was earlier.

Leonard says, "They found her backpack with her phone inside, but there is no sign that Amy herself had fallen down that far with her stuff."

"Then where the hell is she?" Penny asks.

With his chin cupped in his hand, Sheldon's voice sounds calm when he answers, "It makes sense."

None of this makes sense to her, so she steps over and gently swats at his arm to try to jar him to say more. The contact is enough to make him look up, finally, and acknowledge the person that he is talking to. "They found signs that she slid down the first part of the slope. Assuming that it's her blood on the path, then she must have made it back up."

"Okay. Well, that's good, right?" she asks.

Sheldon doesn't answer her. Instead he starts staring at nothing once again.

"Yes and no," Leonard repeats his earlier words. It's not any less annoying this time. Penny shoots him a look of irritation, and he stretches out a hand to her. She takes a few steps forward and accepts it.

He tugs her towards him, and she takes the hint to squeeze in next to him on the chair. Leonard continues, speaking in a soft voice, "It's good that Amy was well enough to climb up despite whatever injuries she may have incurred, but she is still out there somewhere. She's hurt in some fashion, she doesn't have any supplies, and she has no phone to contact anyone for help. If she isn't found soon…"

Not wanting to cry in front of either of them, Penny rests her head on Leonard's shoulder for comfort. Only a few feet away, Sheldon seems to have tuned out of their conversation.

A few seconds later, she is forced to rethink that assumption. Sheldon's voice sounds determined when he speaks into the quiet room. "I need to go out there. I have to find her."

Beside her, Leonard perks up. "We'll go with you." He must realize that he's spoken for both of them because he looks over to her with a questioning look. Penny nods her assent. Of course she wants to help.

He squeezes out from his seat where he is wedged in with her and walks over towards his bedroom. As he walks, he says, "I'm going to go call Deputy DiSalvo. I think we'll need to get approval before we're allowed out there."

Left in the room with a silent Sheldon, Penny has trouble thinking of anything helpful to say. Perhaps there is no right thing to say at a time like this. At a loss, she asks, "Are you okay?"

He doesn't respond, so she calls out louder, "Sheldon!"

His face snaps to hers, startled from his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" she asks again.

He squints at her, and she is pleased to see a familiar expression on his face at last. It's the look that she sees on his face when he thinks that she has asked a stupid question.

"Of course not," he answers. After a brief pause he adds, "But I will be once I find her."

Penny has to blink back the sudden hot rush she feels in her eyes. Sheldon is right. She doesn't think that anything will ever feel okay for any of them until they locate Amy. She refuses to allow herself to think of what might happen if they never do.

Leonard walks back into the room with his phone in his hand and a nervous look on his face. "I told the deputy that we were planning to drive up, but he said that we should stay put. He's already on his way here."

* * *

—-

* * *

In an attempt to assuage his anxiety, Sheldon paces the length of the apartment. Sitting still makes him feel like he isn't doing anything at all. It's best to keep moving.

He wonders what it means that the police are coming here. Do they have more information? Are they coming to deliver bad news? Are they coming to tell him that Amy is…

Sheldon cuts off the morbid thought. Every three trips across the room, he checks his watch. He could swear that time is passing slower than normal just to spite him. Unable to stand it for one moment longer, he detours to his room. Rummaging through his nightstand he finds his backup nail file.

When he returns to the main living area, he wordlessly hands his find to Penny before resuming his previous route. Having to watch her pick and chew at her fingernails makes his own anxiety worsen. If she keeps at it, she's going to draw blood.

That mustn't happen. Even the thought of blood causes Sheldon's stomach to squirm. He tries not to think about the trail or his shoes. More than anything else, he doesn't want to imagine what could have happened to draw Amy's blood. Of course, the very act of trying not to think about it means that he is, in fact, thinking about it. He shivers to shake it off and starts counting his steps as he traverses the room. Counting is comforting. Counting is distracting.

It feels like forever, but eventually there is a brisk knock at the front door. Sheldon's pacing comes to a halt. He feels his heart lurch in his chest and brings his hand up as if that would somehow be able to keep it in there.

Frozen in place with the force of his worry, he watches Leonard cross the room to let the deputy in. He wants to cover his ears. He wants to run and hide. He wants Amy to come home.

"Good afternoon."

The deputy's calm greeting does nothing to settle Sheldon's nerves. It does, however, channel some of his fear into irritation at the man's nonchalance.

"What's going on? Is it Amy? Did you find her?" Penny asks, sounding appropriately frazzled.

DiSalvo shakes his head. "Not yet."

Sheldon is equal parts relieved and aggravated. It would have been nice if this guy had told Leonard that over the phone.

The deputy continues, "We're taking steps to inform other hikers along the trail of the situation, distributing her picture and so forth. Word should spread quickly, and hopefully someone will be able to tell us something soon. These folks are quite good about looking out for one another." He clears his throat. "Uh, in the meantime, I have a few more things to discuss with you, Mr. Cooper."

"It's Dr. Cooper. What can I do to help?"

"I'd like to go over a few things, if we could have a moment to speak alone."

Leonard steps over to his side. "I don't think that's a good idea, Sheldon. I'm not sure how much you should be talking to the police without a lawyer."

His roommate is probably right, but he doesn't care. "I want to help."

Penny steps over to Sheldon's other side. When she speaks, she addresses the deputy. "If he is willing to talk to you that's fine, but we're not leaving."

DiSalvo shrugs. "Suit yourselves, but these are highly personal matters, and it's really up to Dr. Cooper."

Unsure of what he's talking about, Sheldon prefers to keep the conversation moving along. Daylight's burning and he is impatient to go out and search for Amy himself. "I don't care. They can stay or they can go. What's going on?"

The deputy rummages through a manila folder and pulls out a few pieces of paper. "Among Ms. Fowler's—"

"Dr. Fowler."

The man sighs. "Among Dr. Fowler's possessions we found a letter addressed to you. Now, in this letter, she refers to having written two other letters to you. Do you still have those?"

Aghast on Amy's behalf, Sheldon responds, "You read one of her letters?"

"Of course. We're looking for clues about any plans she may have made, any destinations she may have considered. We're also still trying to get an accurate sense of her state of mind."

Folding his arms across his chest, he issues a demand. "I want that letter. She intended for it to go to me."

The deputy scratches his head before gesturing at the living room furniture. "Look, let's all sit down. I need to explain where we're at with this investigation."

His spot has never looked so unwelcoming, but Sheldon sits in it anyway. Leonard and Penny take a seat next to him in quiet solidarity, leaving the officer a spot in the nearby armchair.

"Dr. Cooper, I need your cooperation today. I'm not sure if you're aware of how things look for you right now."

That's ridiculous, and he scoffs. "How things look for me? I'm not the one who's missing. You should be looking for Amy."

"Okay, let's be clear here. What I'm trying to tell you is that when I went to sleep this morning, I knew there was a very good chance that I would be waking up and arresting you later in the day."

Penny gasps and grabs Sheldon's arm. Leonard shifts to the edge of his seat and sputters, "That's insane! I told you before that he would never do anything to hurt Amy."

"Damn it, I told you the same thing! He's not capable of violence, especially towards Amy," Penny adds.

Hurt Amy? Violence? Sheldon's mind spins as he tries to piece things together. How could they possibly suspect him of harming Amy? He loves her. It does not compute.

Despite squinting at the deputy, nothing becomes any clearer. "What are you talking about?"

"When someone goes missing, particularly with the kind of blood evidence we saw at the scene, we take a look at that person's entire life, including those closest to them. In this case, that means you, Dr. Cooper. We look for signs of strife and check for anyone who might have had any kind of dispute in the days leading up to the disappearance. Again, that would be you."

The thought of harming Amy makes Sheldon feel nauseous. His brain can't even process the concept. "It's true that she broke up with me, but since that time I've been trying to get her back to hug her, not to hurt her."

The deputy tilts his head and says, "You know what? I want to believe you. Truly. I've been able to see how much stress you've been under and how much pain you're in. I want to think that you're devastated by her absence rather than overwhelmed by having been the one to cause it."

"I didn't harm her. I love her," he whispers. In his peripheral vision, he spots fervent nods from both Penny and Leonard.

DiSalvo shrugs. "I hear you. But here are the cold, hard facts: there was discord in your relationship, you were at the scene where she went missing, part of your time that day is unaccounted for, you have a fresh, unexplained cut on your finger, and there was blood on your shoe. By your own admission, you have attempted to hack her phone in order to track her down so that you could 'make her understand'. Unrequited love can make men do things that they otherwise wouldn't."

Sheldon stares the man down, willing him to understand the truth. "I explained all of that, and my love for Amy is not unrequited. If you've read one of her letters, then I suspect you know that."

The officer is undeterred. "I did read her letter. The fact that she does indeed love you back helps your cause a great deal. It is the reason why we're having a relaxed conversation in your apartment instead of an interrogation at the station with cuffs around your wrists."

There is nothing relaxed about this conversation from where Sheldon is sitting. The fact that anyone could presume him capable of something so terrible is galling.

DiSalvo continues, "But that alone isn't enough. I'd like to help you clear this up, and to do that I'm going to need the other letters she sent you as well as a detailed explanation of how you spent yesterday afternoon."

Was it only yesterday? To Sheldon, it feels like he has been missing her for eons.

He would prefer not to share these private matters with anyone other than Amy, much less a man who suspects him of violence, but there's little choice now. Backed into a corner, his options are limited.

"I was here. I had gotten Amy's second letter over the weekend, and I have been spending part of each day writing a response to her."

"Do you have a copy of what you were working on?"

He nods and gestures to the laptop on his desk. "It's on my computer."

Leonard straightens up from his hunched over position. In better times, Sheldon would've already chided him for his poor posture. All that slouching might result in a kyphosis.

"If it's on your computer, then your work will be time stamped," Leonard points out.

DiSalvo raises his eyebrows. "That would be perfect. If you're willing to hand over your laptop for us to verify what you're saying, then we can end this today. I understand how devastating these allegations can be, and I want to move on from this too."

The idea of having a stranger read his private message to Amy is unsettling. It's intensely personal, and Sheldon hates the thought that the police will come to know more about his feelings for Amy then she herself does. Still, he doesn't want to be the one to hamper the search in any way, and he doesn't want to ever have to hear another ridiculous accusation about this again.

"I can do that," he agrees. He supposes that he should feel relieved to be able to clear his name. With Amy still missing, however, taking comfort in anything remains as elusive for him as she does.

"There is also the matter of her earlier letters to you. I still need to go through those to see if there are any clues as to where she might have gone or to what she might have been thinking."

Somehow, the thought of sharing Amy's messages to him feels like an even greater violation of privacy. The officer's reasons do not sound sufficient to Sheldon. "She didn't say anything in the letters about going anywhere. And as for her state of mind, like I told you before, she wouldn't hurt herself. It's every bit as preposterous as your previous theory."

DiSalvo pulls out a paper from the folder on his lap. "Dr. Cooper, this document is a copy of the letter we found in Dr. Fowler's backpack."

Eager to hear anything at all from Amy, Sheldon snaps his hand out, but the deputy makes no move to hand it over.

"In this letter, you will find that your ex-girlfriend recently got some troubling news. It's unclear as to precisely what effect this might have had on her, but it seems like she was going through some sort of grieving process. We really need those other letters."

Sheldon looks to Penny and Leonard, but they look just as surprised as he feels. What could have been troubling Amy? Why would she not have confided in him until this letter? Without another word, he stands and walks over to the safe in the wall. He enters the combination and retrieves the small box of valuables he has stowed away there.

They all stare at him when he sits back down, making him long for privacy and solitude. He reverently sets the box on the coffee table and then leans over to begin rifling through its contents with careful fingers. Nosy as ever, Penny slides close to him and peers into the cardboard box with him.

"What the heck do you keep locked away in here?" she asks.

"Things of value."

That must not be a good enough answer because Penny points at a small velvet box. Of course. Of all the things in here, she has to take notice of that one.

"Is that jewelry?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

That is none of their business whatsoever, but Sheldon figures that answering her will keep her quiet for a good length of time. He doesn't want the added stress of more prying questions. There have been enough of those already.

"It's an engagement ring for Amy."

As expected, his theory proves correct. Penny stares at him in shock, but at least it's a silent shock. Leonard doesn't seem to know what to say either.

Among Sheldon's valuables is a full stack of various cards that he has received from Amy over the years. Ordered by the time at which they were received, he flips through the cheery holiday images until he reaches the plain white envelopes in the back that contain her most recent correspondences.

Hesitant to hand them over, he only does so with a caveat. "I want these back as soon as possible."

The deputy agrees, and after accepting the envelopes, he sets them atop Sheldon's computer. In return, he holds out the folded paper that makes up Amy's last letter. Sheldon takes it with a shaky hand.

"I appreciate your cooperation, Dr. Cooper. This is a difficult time, and I hope you can understand that investigating your possible involvement is nothing personal. The only thing that I want in all of this is to find Amy."

The accusations continue to sting, but he tries to appreciate the man's tenacious focus on helping Amy. They have that in common, if nothing else. He gives the man a reluctant nod of acceptance.

After a brief nod of his own, DiSalvo adds, "I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything new."

The officer stands as if to leave, and Leonard voices the question that is also on Sheldon's mind. "Can we come out to help search today? We all want to be actively doing something."

With a glance to each of them, DiSalvo says, "The three of you are obviously still exhausted. I'm not sure if you'd be more of a help or a hindrance until you rest more. And in the interest of full disclosure, I can tell you that I'm going to need to verify Dr. Cooper's alibi and get permission from my superior before I can let any of you out there."

He turns to Sheldon. "Read that. Try to rest. Call me first thing in the morning, and I'll make sure that we have a plan for how you can help."

Leonard and Penny walk to the door and usher the deputy out. Sheldon is not in the mood for any kind of social niceties, not after all of that. With no one to distract him, he stares at the folded paper in his hand.

When his friends return, they stand much too close to where he is sitting. With a soft voice, Leonard asks, "Are you okay, buddy?"

Sheldon closes his eyes to try to control his rising temper. Penny's voice sounds equally gentle when she offers, "Sweetie, do you want us to stay while you read that? We could even read it with you."

His eyes snap open, and he rises to his feet. "Why does everyone keep asking if I'm okay? Of course I'm not okay! And no, no one else is going to read this. It's bad enough to have these random police officers intruding into our relationship."

They both look at him with surprised, pitying expressions. None of this is their fault, but Sheldon can't stop himself from taking out his anger on the two of them. He strides across the room in a huff, desperate to ensconce himself in the privacy of his room.

As he gets near his bedroom door, the guilt begins to set in, and he turns back to face them. His anger shifts into feelings of sadness and regret, and he feels compelled to try and explain why he snapped at them. "The ring, the letters, the questioning. It's not right. Everyone knows more about my feelings for Amy than she does. Maybe even more than I'll ever get the chance to tell her."

* * *

—-

Note: As you've probably noticed, this story is a bit different from most TBBT fic, so feel free to share your thoughts about it at any point.


	11. Chapter 11

—

* * *

CHAPTER 11

* * *

Amy tries to free her mind from the hazy fog of an unnatural sleep. It feels like attempting to swim out of deep, murky water, and she can't quite breach the surface. She wants to open her eyes, but her eyelids seem heavy, unresponsive to her mind's demands. After some unknown length of time, she can feel more of her thoughts start to take shape, and the foremost one is of pain. Her head pounds with every beat of her heart, and it makes her wish she could fall back into the sweet oblivion of dreamless sleep.

In the distance, she can hear the occasional sound of a passing car as well as the more constant sound of chirping birds. She can also make out the soft, scuffling sound of footsteps on a wooden floor. If she could only make her eyelids obey, then maybe she could figure out where she is and what has happened. It stands to reason that she has been injured, but Amy's addled brain can't imagine what could have caused it.

If she is hurt, it seems probable that the person she can hear moving around is Sheldon. He would be here to fulfill his obligations as written into the Relationship Agreement. The thought is comforting, but hearing his voice would be even better. She tries to make her lips form the sounds that make up his name, but her dry tongue barely moves, leaving her unable to manage anything other than a soft groan.

The sound of the footsteps becomes louder, so perhaps her weak effort was enough to summon him. She feels a warm palm rest on the back of her head to gently tip her forward. He drips some water into her mouth, and the feeling of cool moisture is welcome on her parched tongue.

As she attempts to swallow, the dryness of her throat causes her to cough reflexively. Pain sears through her head, and Amy is grateful to feel herself slipping away once again.

* * *

—

* * *

Bernadette flops her weary body onto one of the stiff wooden chairs in the waiting area of the Palmdale sheriff's station. Howard, Raj, and Emily take seats near her, looking relieved to be off their feet as well.

It has been a very long weekend. After receiving the news about Amy on Thursday, all four of them had taken Friday off and spent the next three days aiding in the search effort. Hiking sections of the trail, distributing fliers, and talking to as many local residents and hikers as possible has left them all exhausted.

Unfortunately, despite all their efforts, the search has turned up nothing. The process is frustrating, and Bernadette has been having a difficult time trying not to snap at anyone and everyone.

They are too polite to bring it up, but she is certain that everyone here is aware of the odds. Every day that goes by without finding Amy increases the probability that things will not end well. Sheldon must know this too. It may be her imagination, but she could swear that his youthful face looks older with each passing day. The stress is obviously wearing on him a great deal.

Howard rubs his eyes. "God, what a nightmare. I can't believe this is all happening. Sheldon's the most aggravating person I know, but I would never wish anything like this on him."

"I'm happy to do anything that might help, but I'm not sure that I accomplished anything today other than giving myself epic blisters," Raj complains, gesturing to his feet. "I've never walked that much in a single day."

"I bet it was still better than the job you had on Friday," Emily says with a small smile, probably trying to lighten the mood.

Raj's eyes widen. On Friday, he was assigned the unfortunate task of dealing with Mrs. Fowler. Penny had given Amy's mother the news about her missing daughter on Thursday, and when she showed up at the station first thing the next morning, she was displeased by the lack of progress. They needed someone to help keep her occupied, and it was Raj who drew the short straw.

"I can't believe how long it took for me to convince her that Sheldon really exists, and that he had, in fact, been Amy's boyfriend," he says. "She seemed to think that Amy was making up stories about him so that her family would stop nagging her about her dating life."

"There's nothing wrong with a mother being protective," Bernadette responds. "And if you had a daughter that was dating Sheldon, you might opt for willful ignorance as well."

Raj purses his lips and tilts his head. "I suppose so. Still, she is a very… unusual woman."

"I wonder how Sheldon managed to avoid interacting with the parent of his girlfriend for so long," Howard says. The tone of his voice indicates that he admires the feat.

Bernadette gives him a look of warning. This is not the time for wisecracks about in-laws.

The sound of the front door opening captures her attention, and she catches sight of Sheldon and Deputy DiSalvo entering the building. Those two have reached some kind of truce now that the police have officially cleared Sheldon of any wrongdoing. It still shocks Bernadette that anyone could have ever suspected someone like him violence in the first place, but than again, he can be a bit off-putting, and she can see how someone might find him baffling to the point of suspicion.

At least they are all on the same page now. It's just too bad that everyone's cooperative efforts have continued to be in vain.

Sheldon walks straight towards them, and the brief flash of hopefulness on his face fades as soon as Bernadette shakes her head no to his unspoken question. Without saying anything, he seats himself into an empty chair next to Raj. It's a weird thing to notice, but she is surprised to see him sitting down in a public seat like that. There's no special pants, no seat cover, and no furious application of hand sanitizer. He has his elbow braced on the armrest, and he even has his chin resting on his unwashed hand. Slouched over and sweaty from a day of fruitless searching, she has never seen him look so dejected.

He glances over to Raj with a wary expression. "Is Amy's mother here today?"

"No. We convinced her that the best thing she could do to help was to contact members of her family in case they have heard from Amy. It's a long shot, of course, but it has kept her busy for the time being."

At least they were able to give Sheldon that much good news. His brief confrontation with Amy's mother on Friday afternoon had not gone well. Bernadette can't blame him for brushing the woman aside. There are far bigger issues to focus on, and it's surely for the best that he avoided getting into too big of an argument with Amy's mother under the current circumstances.

After a moment of silence, she can see that Sheldon has closed his eyes, and she wonders if it is due to sleepiness or stress. Raj nudges his elbow and breaks the silence, "Dude, you don't look so good. Penny and Leonard said that you haven't been eating or sleeping much. Maybe you should take it easy. You're starting to look like a zombie."

"Yeah, it's like _The Walking Dead_ around here _,_ " her husband adds. A joke involving walking and being dead is so tasteless right now that Bernadette is too stunned to speak.

She turns to give him a wide-eyed, threatening look, and he wilts back into his seat. The urge to start hollering at him is nearly uncontrollable. She resists only because she can see the regretful expression that has already taken over his face.

Thankfully, Sheldon is his normal, clueless self. Bernadette sees no change in him in response to Howard's comment. His lack of reaction strikes her as odd, and she starts to wonder if perhaps it isn't due to cluelessness after all. Maybe he is simply choosing to ignore Howard's insensitivity. Or maybe he is too occupied with more important thoughts to care.

* * *

—

* * *

The next time Amy awakens, her eyes snap open right away. Bright sunshine floods her retinas, causing her to gasp and close her eyes just as quickly as she opened them. The throbbing pain in her head is unrelenting, and it is accompanied by a burning ache in both her right wrist and her left ankle.

She tries to think back. What happened to her? Where the hell is she?

The first thing that comes to mind is the recent end of her relationship with Sheldon. That alone is enough to make her long to go back to sleep, to not have to face her new reality again. The recollection of their breakup makes the pain in her head worse, so she forces herself to think of something other than losing him. What else happened?

She remembers taking time off of work and being out on a hike exploring the Pacific Crest Trail. The desire to hide from her problems had been immature, but also impossible to resist. There was fresh air, beautiful vistas, and even a cute little rabbit.

Oh. That's right. Amy recalls her terrifying slide and the agonizing climb that followed. But how did she get here? And where is here? Is she in a hospital?

She hears the distinctive sound of someone closing window blinds, so she risks squinting her eyes open again. No longer blinded by the light, it becomes clear that she is not in a hospital. It looks like a sparsely furnished bedroom. Aside from the bed she lays on, there is only a small end table and a seventies era upholstered recliner.

Her eyes track across the room, and a man that she doesn't recognize is standing near the window. He looks to be about Sheldon's height, though he seems a bit heavier. The man sports shaggy, dark blond hair and a matching unkempt beard. She thinks he's a bit older than her, but she's not sure.

"Sorry about all that light. I'm guessing you've got a pretty serious headache still, eh?"

Instinctively, Amy tries to sit up so that she can meet this stranger in a less vulnerable position. To her horror, she finds that she can't. And it isn't her body that's refusing to act, not this time. Instead, she finds that her movements are being held in check by a soft nylon rope that is tied loosely around her wrists and ankles, attached somewhere to the bed frame below. The restraints allow a considerable amount of movement, but it's not enough to allow her to get up.

Her heart was already beating rapidly, and it only pounds harder as panic rushes through her. She wants to scream for help, but when she opens her mouth to do so, she second-guesses the inclination and stays quiet instead. Maybe it's best to figure out what's going on before she risks making this unknown man angry. Her heart continues to race despite her attempts to stifle her fears, and she finds herself hoping that this might all be some kind of terrible dream.

The man starts walking towards her, and with every step he takes, Amy feels more and more afraid. Unable to calm herself down, she can't fight the urge to start pulling against the cords that hold her down.

"Oh shit! Not this again. Look, hon, we've been over this a couple times already. Did you forget again?"

Her breathing is starting to feel out of control, and she prays that she won't start hyperventilating. The man sighs and picks up a water bottle from off the bedside table. When he turns and holds it up near her mouth, she freezes.

"It's just water. You should drink. Gotta stay hydrated."

It's not like she's in much of a position to decline, but truth be told, she really does want a drink of water more than almost anything right now. Desperate to quench her thirst, Amy leans up and takes a long, greedy drink from the plastic straw.

When she finishes, he sets it back on the table, and then turns to her with an inscrutable look on his face. He scratches at his beard as if trying to puzzle out what to say. Amy decides to speak first, impatient to ask the question that is foremost on her mind.

"Why am I tied down?" Her voice sounds raspy and shaky, but she's proud of herself for managing to choke out the words in her current state.

He raises his eyebrows and points at his ribcage. "Because it hurts when you punch and kick."

That answer is unhelpful. If anything, it only worries her more. What did he do that made her try to fight him off?

She stares at him, too nervous to voice another question and too afraid of what the answers might be. Eventually, he continues, "You've been a little out of it at times. The drugs seem to make you get a bit weird. I think I fucked up your dose, you know? You aren't as heavy as I thought. I mean, I hauled your ass for at least a mile or so to get you here, so that probably skewed my estimate."

Every word he says only makes things sound worse. She has no idea what drugs he is talking about.

"Anyway, you kept trying to get up. I told you that you wouldn't be able to walk with that ankle, and quite frankly, you would've fallen if you'd tried. I didn't think your head should take another beating, so here we are."

He makes it sound so calm and reasonable, but the reality remains. She is tied down in some unknown location at the hands of a weirdo when she ought to be in a hospital. It's impossible to know the right thing to do. After a few seconds of contemplation, she gathers her courage and decides to get back to the most pressing issue.

"If I don't try to stand up, will you untie me?" The question is a test of sorts. His response should tell her a lot.

The man squints at her with skepticism and brings his face uncomfortably close to her own, close enough that she can smell the scent of cigarettes on his breath and see the variation of color in his brown eyes. He fixes his assessing gaze into her eyes. His proximity makes Amy try to pull back, but lying down leaves nowhere for her head to go, so she turns it to the side instead. In her peripheral vision, she can see him start to smile.

"Sure. You seem a lot better now. Your pupils are the same size and are reacting appropriately to the light in the room. Try not to do anything stupid, though, okay? You'd surely come to regret it."

His voice sounds kind and gentle, as if he finds something humorous about all of this. It isn't funny to Amy, though, and the fact that his words compose a threat is not lost on her.

He begins untying the first knot, and continues to speak while he works. "I've sutured the cut on your head and wrapped your ankle and wrist to help with any swelling. Your head is pretty bad, but your limbs are just sprained. Try to chill the fuck out this time, okay? You're only gonna set back your healing if you get pissed at me again."

"Okay," she agrees, aware that there is no other answer to give, really. It's got to be a good sign that he is willing to remove the restraints, but she wonders yet again what could have happened to make her strike out at him in the past.

Amy doesn't know what to think of the man's strange mix of profanity and medical assistance. For now, she tries to focus on the simple relief of having her arms and legs free.

When he's finished, he sits back in the ugly upholstered chair and waves a finger at her. "You can probably sit up if you use your good arm and leg to support your movements. I'd offer to give you a hand, but I've learned that it's unwise to help you too much when you're fully awake."

Her body aches as she gingerly slides herself up, but it feels good to stretch her stiff muscles. It also feels a lot less pathetic to be sitting up to face this stranger. Her head swims with dizziness, pain, and confusion. There are so many things that she needs to know, so many questions to ask.

It's been made clear that he found her and got her off the trail, and that he has even gone to the trouble of patching up her injuries. Her wrist and her ankle are both neatly wrapped up with a few compression elastic bandages. She'll need a mirror to see how he did at stitching up her head, but she supposes the fact that she's no longer bleeding is good enough for the time being.

Now that she's upright, she takes notice of the clothes she is wearing, a plain white t-shirt and an oversized pair of shorts, neither of which look familiar. Try as she might, Amy cannot remember changing her outfit.

"Whose clothes are these?" she asks.

"Mine."

That curt response doesn't tell her anything useful. Amy swallows hard, waiting for further information.

He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. "You're welcome," he adds, sarcasm abundant in his tone.

"I don't remember putting them on."

He shrugs. "Like I said, you were rather out of it. It really pissed you off when I suggested we clean you up, but you were pretty fucking gross. I had to wait until you passed out to finally get it done."

The idea of this strange man changing her clothes while she lay here asleep is immensely unsettling. She tugs the blanket up higher into her lap, trying not to think of what else it could mean.

"Where am I? Why didn't you take me to a hospital?"

"I don't like hospitals. I used to work in one, so it's a well-informed kind of hate. There's endless bureaucracy and too much information gathering. I blame Obama."

Amy's not sure if he's being serious.

"I prefer to stay off the grid, you see. The government doesn't exactly approve of my lifestyle, and I don't approve of those bastards either, so it's mutual. Anyway, I figured you being all beat up out there, carrying no supplies… Well, I didn't know what your story was. It made it difficult to know what to do with you."

"It was just a freak accident. My footing gave way, and I fell down a very steep incline. I had to drop my pack to climb up."

He looks at her with a skeptical expression. "Oh. Well, to me it looked like somebody had dumped you out there to die. I figured maybe you had a little domestic dispute. Or maybe a bit of a drug problem."

"That's not what happened."

"Back when I was a doctor, I used to get shit like that in the ER all the time. Women would show up beat to hell and then go right back to the same assholes that did it to them. And we used to get the same drug users coming in over and over, unable to ever do much to help them. Whether you were a victim or an addict, taking you to a hospital might've only made things worse. I figured you're better off here with me."

Amy swallows passed the nervous lump in her throat. She tries to keep her voice steady and strong as she repeats herself. "That's not what happened." It comes out sounding much weaker than she intended.

Turning the lever to pop up the footrest, the man reclines back in his seat, appearing unconvinced by her assurances. "Face it, you're lucky that it was me who found you. It could've been some crazy person."

He gives her a wide, toothy grin and picks up a second water bottle from off the floor near his seat. Gesturing at her with the bottle as if he's making a toast, he adds, "As I see it, it's goddamn serendipity."

* * *

—


	12. Chapter 12

—

* * *

CHAPTER 12

* * *

The delicious aroma of food rouses Amy from yet another unplanned snooze. The man who is both her savior and her captor must have gone out to get something to eat.

He motions for her to sit up and then sets a flat piece of plywood across her lap that acts as a makeshift tray. Upon it is a bowl of clear, yellowish broth, some crackers, and a cup of juice. She doesn't trust her companion one bit, but she supposes that starving herself won't do anything to improve her situation.

"Best to start with plain foods," he says.

The man sits back in his chair and puts one foot up onto his opposite knee. It feels weird to have him sitting there watching her while she eats, but she decides to ignore him as best she can. Her stomach rumbles its demands, so she eagerly spoons soup into her mouth.

"You might wanna go slow there, hon."

He's called her that a few times now, and she hates it. "My name is Amy," she offers, hoping that he'll address her by name instead.

A normal person would respond with their own name, but this guy doesn't say a word. She nibbles on a cracker and decides to ask him directly. "What's your name?"

"You mean back when I lived among the rest of the American sheeple? That name doesn't matter at this point. It sucked anyway. But you know, I did always like the name Simon, so I tend to go by that these days."

It might not be a good idea, but curiosity gets the better of her. If she's going to talk this man into letting her go home, then maybe it might help to get a sense of how his mind works. "So... Simon, why do you refer to everyone as sheeple?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Capitalism run amok, surveillance on everyone, the lives of us all at the mercy of the elite. It's a fucked up world, and people don't even notice. If they've got their fast food and their cable tv, then the whole world could burn around them, and they wouldn't even notice. It's all bullshit, so I checked out of it. I've got money saved and live cheap. No reason to keep working for someone else when I don't have to."

Amy continues to eat while Simon regales her with paranoid theories about politics, religion, social issues, and things that would only make sense on one of those ridiculous episodes of _The X-Files_ that Sheldon watches. He seems particularly fond of ranting about the American health care system. "Think about it. If you were in the hospital right now, you'd just end up a debt slave for life. Believe me, I know what it all costs. God bless America, right?"

She doesn't voice any opinions of her own. It's not that Amy doesn't hold strong views, and she's not shy about sharing them, but it seems unwise to discuss politics or religion with a man as unpredictable as this. It is becoming more and more clear how unstable he is. She will need to be careful about anything that she says.

When there is a break in his ravings, she jumps at the chance to change the subject and fish for more information at the same time. "Is this your house?"

He chuckles. "Seriously? One can't own a house in California and still be said to live cheap. Nah, this place was just the closest spot to hole up. Folks who lived here must have moved out, but I think it was recent because they've still got the water and electricity turned on. Probably just another set of suckers who bought into the idea of the American dream only to have it all fall apart."

Simon stands up and removes the remnants of Amy's meal. It takes conscious effort to avoid flinching away whenever he approaches her, and she tries to remind herself that as far as she knows, he has not caused her any harm.

"Thank you," she says, deciding that it's best to be polite. He smiles at her and steps out of the room with her tray.

Whatever his intentions may be, she knows that her wellbeing is at his mercy right now. He strikes her as socially awkward, smart, and bat-shit crazy. This is a combination of traits that Amy figures she can work with. Unfortunately, he's also paranoid, bitter, and prone to fits of irrationality. She closes her eyes and prays to any god that might listen, hoping that his odd behavior will not turn into anger towards her.

Simon returns, resuming his place in the avocado green monstrosity of a chair. He rummages through the front pocket of his backpack and pulls out a flat, cylindrical container. He pinches out what looks like a small wad of dirt, then stuffs it between his cheek and his lip. Chewing tobacco. Gross.

Her disgust must show on her face because he looks at her and says, "I'd rather smoke, but I didn't want the second-hand smoke to interfere with your wound healing."

That's a more considerate motivation than she would've expected. Amy still can't decide if this man is a dangerous threat or an unusual hero, and trying to puzzle it out is making the throbbing in her skull come back with a vengeance. She closes her eyes and winces at the increasing pain.

"Well, now that you seem to have your wits about you, I'll leave it up to you. Do you want a narcotic or do you want to tough it out with some ibuprofen?"

"What have you been giving me?"

"Oxycodone. You can't handle much of that, by the way. You know how they say that redheads require higher doses of painkillers? You're like the opposite. It isn't pretty." He punctuates his statement by spitting dark goop into an empty soda can. That's not so pretty either.

Amy wonders what happened in this man's life to turn him from being a doctor into being… whatever the hell he is now. It's probably unwise to ask something like that. Instead she questions, "Do you always travel with a supply of narcotics when you go for a hike?"

He smirks. "Let's not discuss how I got it. I'd prefer to keep it for recreational purposes, so I hope you appreciate my sacrifice in sharing it with you."

Amy's not interested in putting her mind back into the awful, hazy fog that she remembers waking up to. "I'd prefer ibuprofen."

"Suit yourself." He shakes two pills out of the bottle in the side pocket of his backpack and gets up to hand her both the medication and the water.

She downs the pills and hopes that they will offer some relief. Continuing to drink more water will help too, but doing so is starting to cause her a different kind of discomfort.

"I need to use the bathroom."

He chuckles. "Well, I'd offer to help you get to the actual bathroom, but I've been down that road before. In addition to being belligerent and stubborn, you're also kind of a prude, you know?"

Squatting down, he grabs a small plastic tub from off the floor and tosses it onto the bed. "You'll have to make do with this." He turns towards the door and adds, "I'll leave you to it."

"Wait." Amy fights the urgings of her bladder. She needs the relief of answers even more. "You keep talking about things that I don't remember. What's been going on?"

Simon turns back into the room and picks up the soda can. She looks away while he spits tobacco juice into it again.

"Well, I told you before that you were pretty out of it. I figure you've got a concussion to go along with that gash above your ear. Anyway, you kept falling into a freakishly deep sleep. Each time you woke up, I had to explain things all over again. And then there were the narcotics. The pills helped you sleep with less pain but didn't help with your short term memory problem. And of course, none of it fucking helped your disposition."

"You keep telling me that I've been… difficult."

He barks out a laugh. "Hell yeah. You've been a huge pain in the ass."

"I don't know what you mean by that."

"You didn't seem to know where you were or what was going on. You kept calling for someone named Sheila or 'chelle. I dunno, maybe Michelle? Is that a sister, or are you a lesbian or something?"

"What?"

"It's okay. That shit's hot."

"I'm not…" Amy rubs her forehead with her good hand, trying to make sense of any of this. "Look, it doesn't matter. It's, um, I guess you must've had a long night taking care of me."

He wrinkles his eyebrows and squints at her with a look of surprise. "Long night? Are you kidding? I've been putting up with your craziness for five days."

* * *

—

* * *

On Monday morning, Leonard emerges from his room to a familiar sight. His roommate is sitting in his spot with his attention focused on some paperwork. Less familiar is the sight of Sheldon's messy hair, tired eyes, and rumpled pajamas.

Leonard clears his throat, but it doesn't break his friend's concentration. "Hey, Sheldon?"

"Hmm?" He still doesn't look over, but at least he is responding.

"Look, buddy, it's Monday morning. What do you want to do about work?"

"I am working."

Leonard sighs. "I'm talking about your job. Cal Tech? What are you going to tell Siebert?"

Sheldon finally looks up from what he has been doing. "I hadn't thought of that." He turns back and starts reading again. With a pen in his hand, he puts a mark on one of the papers.

Frustrated, Leonard throws his hands up in the air. "Well, think about it!"

The exclamation is enough to recapture his roommate's attention. "Okay, I've thought about it. I can't concern myself with that right now. The university knows that Amy is… missing. Tell Siebert that I'll return to work when Amy does."

It's been difficult to watch his friend go through this. While Leonard does miss Amy, he knows that it is nothing compared to what Sheldon must be feeling. He walks over and sits down, eyeing the papers spread out on the table. It looks like a bunch of maps and several long lists of names.

"Did you know that there are only three and a half thousand people who live in the town of Agua Dulce, Leonard?"

"No, I didn't." Leaning closer, he can see that quite a few names and locations are crossed off. "You can't really be planning to visit every single home in that town."

"I can, I am, and I will. Amy has to be somewhere. We just have to figure out where, and this town is the most likely place that she could be." His answer sounds confident, and he continues to work his way down a list of names, cross-checking them with the map he has spread out in front of him. When he reaches the end of the page, he suddenly tosses his pen down and buries his head in his hands. He has sounded calm and assured, but Leonard can see that his weak facade is crumbling.

Sheldon's voice cracks the next time he speaks. "She can't have just vanished into thin air."

This level of obsessiveness is to be expected, and Leonard is sure that he would be just as big of a mess as Sheldon if their situations were reversed. Still, he worries for his friend—for both of his friends.

"Do you want me to call your mother?"

"I already have. When she heard what was happening, she wanted to come here, but I told her not to. Instead, she agreed that she would 'pray about it'. I expect that to be about as effective as spitting and hoping that it will put out a multi-acre forest fire."

Leonard stands up, preparing to leave for work, and while he does so, he tries to think of anything at all that might help. Only one thing comes to mind. "Maybe you should try to do what you think Amy would want you to do in this situation."

Sheldon unburies his his face from his hands. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know that she would never want you to lose your job. She knows how important your work is to you. If she were standing here right now, she would probably insist that you behave like a professional by emailing Dr. Siebert to request time off. In addition to that, I'm certain that she would demand that you eat, take a shower, and get some sleep before you do anything stupid."

With a weak half-smile, Sheldon concedes, "Yes, I'm sure that she would. In fact, I bet she'd go through a complete rundown of exactly what happens to a person's neurobiological functions when they don't eat or sleep properly."

Leonard smiles back. "When she gets back and sees you, I think you'll get that speech complete with charts, graphs, and a bibliography."

"I look forward to it," he whispers.

The hint of a smile soon fades from Sheldon's pale face. He turns his reddened eyes up to Leonard and continues, "You do believe that she's coming back, right?"

The truth, of course, is that he is not so sure. The reality of the situation is grim, but he wants to hold on to the denial and the hope for as long as possible. He forces himself to look at his friend's desperate face, and he prays that he isn't lying. "She'll be back. I'm sure she would never miss the chance to lecture you about neurological impairment."

* * *

—-

* * *

With Simon out of the room, Amy carefully maneuvers herself into position to void her bladder. The indignity of urinating into this container is real, but it pales in comparison to everything else that has been going on.

Five days. Amy never even considered that she has been gone that long. A combination of unconsciousness and disturbed sleeping patterns must've altered her perception of time. She remembers taking a few naps recently, but now she suspects that those short rests may have been hours long. Five days gone by would make today Monday, the day that she was supposed to return to work.

Amy's bladder is relieved, but her mind is awhirl with the new information. She sets the container aside and tries to rearrange her sore limbs into a tolerable position.

It occurs to her that her friends must be aware that she is missing by now. Penny has had access to her GPS coordinates all along, so they should have been able to locate her phone. If they have, then they must know that something has gone terribly wrong. Sheldon must know too.

Sheldon. Amy closes her eyes to try to hold back her tears. She wishes that he were the one here to take care of her. He would make her sourdough bread, sing her childish get well songs, and make absurd demands for her to get better faster.

Her eyes snap open. Or maybe he wouldn't. She reminds herself that with their relationship ended, he would be under no obligation to take care of her. The thought stings, but she can't afford to dwell on it now.

Amy thumbs the tears out of the corners of her eyes. Simon will be back soon, and she has no desire to talk about Sheldon with him.

It's strange to think that she's spent five days with this mysterious man. He must've done a great deal more to take care of her than she originally thought. It sounds like she was lucid often enough to drink and take medication, but there's no question that she would have been helpless and dependent on him for survival.

She could almost think of it as admirable if she could forget about waking up in restraints. Or if he could ever manage to answer a question in a way that doesn't scare her. And really, a doctor should know damn well that she belongs in a hospital. He may have been able to sew up the laceration, but a head injury is nothing to fool around with. Simon's intentions remain unclear.

By his own admission, it has been a difficult five days. Why, then, has he chosen to do it? What the hell does he want with her?

* * *

—


	13. Chapter 13

—

* * *

CHAPTER 13

* * *

Deputy Jack DiSalvo takes a healthy swig from his cup of coffee. If he's going to have to deal with Dr. Cooper on a Monday, then he is going to need the boost.

"I didn't expect to see you this afternoon. Don't you have a job you should be at?"

"I do, but I'm a man with priorities. Until I find Amy, searching for her is my job. I can't worry about uncovering the mysteries of the universe until I uncover Amy."

Having read Sheldon's godawful attempt at writing a love letter, Jack finds his choice of wording telling. Full of scientific jargon, overly formal anatomical terminology, and obscure references to literature, it had taken a lot of internet searches before he was able to decipher the letter's true meaning. The man had used a hell of a lot of words to convey the simple fact that he did indeed wish to 'uncover Amy'.

He wishes that he had anything helpful to provide as an update, but their investigation has yielded no new leads. Ever since they verified Sheldon's alibi, Jack has found himself feeling bad for the guy. His distraught behavior coupled with the letter he wrote have made it clear just how much he loves that woman.

Jack has also read all of Amy's letters, and having done so, he almost feels like he knows her too. While there was a great deal of sadness conveyed in her written words, he could still sense the life and love that she possessed. Sheldon is correct that his love for her was not unrequited, and he has come to agree that Amy would not have taken her own life.

Still, the question of what happened to her remains. He would like nothing better than to find her alive and well, but in reality, he knows that the odds are growing ever worse. At least Dr. Cooper looks a bit better today than he did over the weekend. His hair is combed, his clothes are tidy, and he looks rested enough that Jack doesn't have to worry about him passing out from exhaustion.

He gestures for Sheldon to sit. "Well, I'm afraid that we still have no leads. I'm not even sure what more we can do."

As much as he hates to admit it to himself, Amy may no longer be among the living. Wounded and lost, she may have followed the mammalian instinct to tuck herself away into some comforting little spot to await the inevitable. It may be a long time before someone finds her body. He glances over at Dr. Cooper, who looks disappointed by the continued lack of new information. Jack's not sure how to try to break it to him, how to tell him that it's best he start bracing for the worst.

"Dr. Cooper, we don't intend to give up on this search, but from what we know, uh… I hope that you understand that, uh…" He can't make himself choke out the words.

Sheldon does it for him. "You think that she's dead."

"It's a possibility."

"She's not," Sheldon snaps back. Under his breath, he continues to mumble, "She's not. She's not."

"Look, like I said, we aren't giving up." DiSalvo holds up two small folders and waves them at Sheldon. "Over the weekend, the only new things that have been assigned to me are a domestic dispute and some crazy drug addict breaking into the local medical clinic." He lets the files flop back onto his desk. "Amy's case remains my top priority. I've got personnel still out looking for clues on the trail, and we're questioning new hikers and townsfolk every day."

"I want to continue to help too. I need to. There are plenty of people left to talk to and—"

"Sheldon, about that… We are happy to have your help, but I've gotta tell you that we did have a few complaints from the locals that you talked to this weekend. It seems your interpersonal communication skills could use a bit of work."

"I don't see how."

"Well for starters, you could try introducing yourself and explaining the situation before you thrust Amy's picture in their faces and demand answers."

"But answers are what I need, not useless chatter."

Jack scratches his chin and reaches for his coffee cup. Something even stronger would be nice. "If you want people to help you, you've got to be polite, or at the very least, don't act like a lunatic. Introduce yourself. Let them introduce themselves. Be patient and listen to what they have to tell you."

"But other than information they might have about Amy, I don't care what they have to say."

"Of course you don't. Most people don't care that much about people they don't know. I'm telling you to fake it like the rest of us do."

Sheldon looks perplexed, but eventually he shrugs. "It's a waste of time, but fine. I'll try to pretend that I care about the uninteresting blather of uninteresting people."

He supposes that's about as good of a response as he could hope for from this particular man. There is something innocently clueless about Sheldon, even given his arrogance. It makes Jack wonder how Amy ever would've been able to forge a relationship with someone like that in the first place. Perhaps she had found his guileless nature to be a great enough mitigating factor to overcome his less desirable qualities.

"Um, great, I guess." Jack clears his throat and continues, "So—"

He stops speaking when he notices fellow deputy Susan Keene standing in his doorway.

"Hey, DiSalvo," she greets him. "I've got an update about our clinic thief. I'm sorry to interrupt, but…" Susan pauses mid-sentence and stares at Sheldon. "Are you that guy whose ex-girlfriend is missing?"

Fidgeting in his seat, Sheldon responds, "She's not my ex-girlfriend. She's a girl, she's my friend, and she is my girlfriend, but she's not my ex. We've just had a minor misunderstanding." He stands up and snags his jacket from off the back of his seat. "I ought to get moving. I have a long list of things to check on today."

Susan's eyebrows wrinkle in consternation. "Um, okay, sure, but you might want to stick around for a minute. You might find this information relevant to your interests."

She sets down a photograph, a grainy still-frame image from a security camera. Intrigued, both men lean in to look at it. As usual, Sheldon cuts to the chase.

"Who is this, and what does this person have to do with Amy?"

"We think this is a man, but it's hard to say for sure. Anyway, around ten o'clock at night last Wednesday, this guy keyed in the code to the alarm system and picked the lock on the entrance to the medical clinic in Agua Dulce. How he knew the code is a mystery."

"What does that have to do with Amy?"

"I'm getting to that." Susan furrows her eyebrows in annoyance, and Jack is amused that Sheldon has managed to exasperate his colleague within minutes of the two of them meeting. Apparently, he has already forgotten their discussion about patience and polite listening skills.

She continues, "We assumed that this was a drug addict looking for a fix, and sure enough he did break in to the back area where medication is stored. What's weird, though, is that when we checked the surveillance footage and compared it to the inventory this morning, the things that he stole were not what we had expected."

Susan sets down another paper next to the fuzzy picture. "This is the list. The only drugs missing were Oxycodone pills and some injectable lidocaine. In addition to that, the thief took some elastic bandages, antibiotic ointment, and—get this—suturing supplies. I don't know about you guys, but to me that looks like—"

"That thief was planning to tend to someone who was seriously wounded," Sheldon finishes for her.

* * *

—-

* * *

When Amy next finds herself face to face with Simon, the lighting in the room has changed from bright sunshine to the muted light of dusk. She rubs the tiredness from her eyes, displeased with herself for succumbing to the weakness of sleep yet again. Simon is perched in the same chair as before, looking her over in that unsettling way of his.

At least her sleep is no longer dreamless. Instead, her subconscious mind is now filled with visions of Sheldon. In those moments, he is the one who sits across from her, or sometimes even closer. Amy closes her eyes, trying to adjust to the harsh truth of her situation once again. It's so tempting to turn her head away, to try to return to the comforting Sheldon in her mind. But she knows that she mustn't. She can never find true rest until she gets herself home.

"What time is it?" she asks, still unable to make herself face him. She wants to sound strong, but her voice is weak and husky.

"I don't know. Probably around seven or seven-thirty at night. You've been sleeping for quite a while. It's good for you, though."

Amy forces herself to look at him. Seeing Simon's brown eyes makes her long for the light blue eyes of the man in her dreams. His shoulder-length blond hair and unkempt beard make her miss Sheldon's tidy haircuts and youthful, clean-shaven face.

"Please tell me it's still Monday," she says.

He shrugs. "If you say so. My life doesn't exactly require keeping track of the days of the week. All I can tell you is that it is the same day as the last time you were awake."

It takes a great deal of effort and discomfort for Amy to maneuver herself into an upright sitting position. She leans against the backboard of the bed, frustrated with her body for being out of breath after such a simple task. In spite of her best efforts, she can't hold back a few soft moans of pain as her injuries protest the motions.

From this position, Amy spots the water bottle and several pills laid out on the end table. She opts for ibuprofen once again, knowing how essential it is for her to keep her mind clear. Of course, even if she manages to accomplish that, she knows getting her body strong enough to get out of this situation will be an altogether different kind of challenge.

"You moan a lot," Simon says, interrupting her thoughts. "In your sleep too, I mean. Must've been having some interesting dreams."

Heat rushes into Amy's cheeks, and she sets down the water bottle before looking away from his smirking face. She is well aware of her tendency to have lurid, racy fantasies about Sheldon while she sleeps, as hopeless as those dreams may be. There's no question in her mind that she has been dreaming about him a lot, but her more erotic dreams tend to wake her up. Perhaps Simon is referring to some other kind of dream.

"I think you were calling for that girl of yours again. Sheila? 'chelle? It sounded like the two of you were having a great time," he says, finishing with a chuckle.

Okay, so it had definitely been that kind of dream. There is no way that she is going to discuss this with Simon. Amy continues to stare at the opposite wall, hoping that he will catch on to her obvious discomfiture and talk about something else.

Whether oblivious or uncaring of her irritation, he continues to press her, "So come on, you can tell me. Is she hot? How long have you two been doing it?"

Simon might have the gender of her dream lover incorrect, but the fact that he's been able to decipher the nature of her dream at all annoys her. Amy replies through gritted teeth, "We haven't. That's not how our relationship works or how it will ever work." The truth of her words only rankles her more.

Desperate to get him off of this subject and on to something that might be useful to her predicament, Amy changes the topic herself. "You know, my friends and family will be wondering where I am by now. I was supposed to return to work today, so my colleagues will be noticing my absence as well."

His grin fades, and he stares at her with his head tilted at an inquiring angle.

She continues, "I need to call my boss, my mother, and my friends. They will be worried."

Simon looks unaffected by her concerns. His response is nonchalant when he says, "You know I can't help you with that."

That's not the answer that Amy has been hoping for. It is, however, the one she most fears. Swallowing down a nervous lump in her throat, she asks, "Why not?"

He looks at her as if she's asked a stupid question. "Do I seem like the kind of guy who's dumb enough to carry a cell phone? As if I'd willfully carry around something that shows my every move and allows for endless data collection about my life. And they'd make me pay for the privilege, for fuck's sake!"

Of course. How could she forget? This guy is a few cards short of a full deck.

"Maybe you can place a call on my behalf from a payphone?"

"Amy, when's the last time that you even saw a payphone? It's 2015. It's not gonna happen."

She can't tell if 'it's not gonna happen' is for the legitimate reason given, or if his statement is a refusal to help her altogether. Stuck here against her will, Amy feels like a captive regardless of the specifics of his intent.

Unwilling to give up, she keeps trying to reason with him. "But I need to find a way to contact them. They'll be worried. They need to know that I'm okay. I'm sure they'd be happy to come pick me up, and then I can be out of your hair."

Simon looks thoughtful at her words, but only manages a soft grunt in reply.

There is one thing that Amy is certain will provoke a more extensive response. "If they don't hear from me soon, they're going to report me as a missing person, if they haven't done so already. You don't seem like the sort of person who would enjoy talking to the police."

He rubs his bearded chin. "Well, shit. I hadn't really given that part much thought, but yeah, I'm no fan of the law. Hell, they're no fan of people like me. It would sure be unfortunate if they became involved."

Part of her wonders what he means by that. It sounds like yet another threat, and if she allows herself to think about it too much, she knows she'll want to curl into a little ball and start sobbing. That won't do at all, so she stuffs the fear aside yet again.

Instead of digressing, she swallows hard and decides to try to encourage him by taking on a lighter, more joking tone. "Yeah, um, the police might misunderstand. I mean, they might think you're a criminal or something."

He looks at her askance. "Well of course they would. I am a criminal."

It takes her bruised brain a moment to process those words. She has been holding out hope that Simon is merely an eccentric weirdo. Hearing him admit otherwise releases the hold she has been keeping on all of her fears, and her mind starts galloping down a very unpleasant path.

Adrenaline surges through Amy's veins, making her want to get up and run. Her heart pounds in anticipation of action, but her battered body makes such a move impossible. She can only sit in place, staring at her captor with wide eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. It's all your fault anyway," he grumbles. "I suppose you're right, though. We're going to have to figure something out."

He stands up with a sigh and walks towards the door as if to leave. At the last second, he turns to her and says, "Quit worrying about it and try to rest some more. I've got to go out and see what the options are. It shouldn't take long."

With one final chuckle and a creepy smirk, he adds, "Don't go hobbling off without me."

* * *

—


	14. Chapter 14

—

* * *

CHAPTER 14

* * *

Hobbling away is exactly what Amy has in mind, and Simon telling her not to do so only increases her sense of urgency. At this point she doesn't feel like she has any other option but to try to escape.

As much as she has tried to hold out some hope of being found, she doesn't see how anyone will ever be able to accomplish it. There is no doubt in her mind that Sheldon has been helping the police search for her, but even with his brilliant mind and his tenacious focus, she doesn't believe that he will ever succeed. If even Amy herself can't figure out where she is or what has happened, then how can she expect anyone else to?

Even if it were possible to hope for rescue, at this point she fears that her time is running out. She is going to have to get out of this on her own, and it must happen now. The question, of course, is how to accomplish such a feat.

As soon as she hears the back door to the house close, signaling Simon's departure, she tries to formulate a plan. He has never locked the door to this room, probably under the assumption that her injuries wouldn't allow her to get very far anyway. With two limbs working against her, she fears that this may indeed be the case.

Still, she has to try. If she allows the fear to rule her, then she will already have lost. Failure is not an option, so Amy does her best to replace her negative thoughts with determination instead. The sound of cars outside has been steady, so the odds of rescue seem favorable if she can simply drag herself to the side of the road. In her current condition, however, there will be nothing simple about it.

Not wanting to waste any more time dwelling on the difficulty of her task, Amy braces her left arm on the bed and swings her legs off the edge. A gentle test of her left ankle makes it clear that it will not hold her weight. She winces against the sharp stab of pain that accompanies her attempt.

Fine. She will damn well crawl, if that's what it takes. The swimming dizziness in her head makes it unlikely that she would have been able to balance herself and coordinate walking anyway.

Amy scooches herself to the edge of the bed and then allows gravity to take her the rest of the way to the floor. She has the aid of her right leg and attempts to catch herself with her good arm, but she can't stop herself from landing on her rear end with a jarring thud. The impact causes her head to pound in protest, a sensation that is intense enough to make her feel lightheaded, as if she might pass out. Doing so would be disastrous, so Amy forces herself to take deep, steady breaths in a stubborn attempt to keep the feeling at bay.

After a minute or so, her head continues to ache, but she thinks she can manage to move again without risk of immediate failure. It's not like she has much choice. Simon could return at any moment, so her pain is going to have to take a backseat to her greater need for freedom.

Moving with only two available limbs is a tricky proposition, but it turns out that landing on her ass has provided a useful lesson. There's no easier way to support her weight than to remain on her behind. Leaning back on her good left arm, Amy pushes off with her elbow and pulls herself forward with her right leg.

Like a human inchworm, she slides herself across the short distance to the bedroom door. Sitting up, it is easy enough to reach the doorknob and swing it inwards.

Tired from even this minor progress, she has to brace herself against the doorjamb to rest for a minute. During her brief respite, Amy gets her first look at the rest of the house that makes up her prison. The little bit of furniture that the former occupants left behind is covered with protective sheeting. The house itself has more square footage than she would have preferred, and even though it's only about fifty feet across, in her current condition it looks like a miles long journey. In the distance, she can see the salvation of the front door beckoning her onward, its bright red color standing out in sharp contrast to the drab white interior of the walls.

Amy fixes her eyes on the promise of freedom that the red door represents and starts to make her way towards it. Progress is slow, but stopping again is out of the question. She doesn't know how much time has passed, much less how much she might have left.

Halfway to the outside world, she is startled by a sound and movement from the staircase on her right. Her heart jumps in panic, and her eyes dart over in search of the source. Squinting to see into the darkness, she can just make out the reflected light that bounces off the eyes of her unexpected guest.

A furry tail flicks out from the shadows, giving away that her new stalker is a cat. Amy breathes a sigh of relief at the same time as the animal greets her with a soft meow. Normally having a preference for cats over dogs, this time she wishes that she could have crossed paths with a more helpful animal. Where is Lassie when you need her?

Ever the epitome of indifference, the cat does nothing more than stare at her. Undeterred, Amy continues to drag her weary body towards her goal. In time the cat darts off, in search of more interesting prey.

* * *

—-

* * *

"Go home, Dr. Cooper."

Sheldon watches Deputy DiSalvo close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. It's allergy season, so Sheldon figures the man must be trying to hold back a sneeze.

Not wanting to face another day of failure in his quest to get Amy back, he defies the deputy's directive. "I'm not letting this go."

DiSalvo leans back, tipping his chair to a precarious angle. He sighs and says, "Of course you're not."

"If we assume that the clinic thief has Amy, then the area we need to search is small enough that I want to go over it tonight."

The deputy doesn't look convinced. "First of all, that person might have nothing to do with Amy. And even if he does, he could have driven her just about anywhere."

From Sheldon's first moments in Agua Dulce, he has been certain that Amy is not far away. Nevertheless, he'd prefer not to admit that his hypothesis is borne out of intuition. Never one to believe in such hokum as gut feelings, he tries to think of some rational basis to explain why he knows this to be true.

"I don't believe it's a coincidence that someone stole those particular supplies on the exact day that Amy disappeared. As for the vehicle, wouldn't it stand to reason that someone with a car would take her to a hospital?" he asks.

The deputy shoots right back, "Wouldn't it stand to reason that someone who didn't have a vehicle would simply call for emergency assistance?"

That's something that Sheldon has been trying to avoid thinking about all afternoon. Even with his brilliant mind, he has been unable to posit an innocent reason for someone to go to the trouble of helping her off the trail and yet not take her to receive professional medical attention thereafter. The illogicalness of it does not sit well with him. The fact that she has not made contact with anyone is another warning sign that whoever is with her may not have her best interests at heart.

Filled with nervous energy, he keeps his hands busy, unbending a paperclip from the deputy's desk and working it into a straight line of wire. He feels desperate to convince DiSalvo to share in his sense of urgency. "That's all the more reason to find her as quickly as possible." He starts bending the wire back into its original configuration and continues, "Someone walking the trail is not that likely to have a vehicle nearby. Many hikers cover considerable distances on the Pacific Crest Trail. If she was found by some transient individual and that person decided to take her somewhere instead of calling for help, then he can't have taken her very far."

DiSalvo stands up from his chair with a grunt and walks over to pour himself a cup of coffee. That's the man's third cup by Sheldon's count, and while he'd normally relish the opportunity to lecture about the role of excessive coffee intake as a risk factor for developing an ulcer, he can't even begin to muster up the energy to care right now.

Taking his seat once again, the deputy holds out his hand. "What've you got?"

In an instant, Sheldon drops the paperclip and hands his map of the area over. He has spent most of the afternoon trying to narrow down the search possibilities.

"This map covers the area between the entrance to the trail and the clinic that was robbed. It's the region that clearly deserves the most focus. I've crossed off the houses where I was able to speak to a resident on the phone today. The circled houses are ones listed up for sale. If the person who has Amy is a vagrant hiker, then a vacant house might be a tempting place for such a person to hide."

The deputy nods along with Sheldon's thought process. "It's worth looking into, and it's the best lead we've got at this point. First thing in the morning, I'll contact the relevant real estate agencies and arrange to have a look inside these houses."

Such a wait is unacceptable. "I want to go now," he insists.

"Look, I understand your impatience, but it's seven-thirty at night. We won't be able to reach these real estate agents, and we can't just break in to these homes. The fact that no one is living in them does not give us the right to enter them without a warrant. With nothing but speculative guesswork, a warrant would not be attainable anyway. We would need probable cause, and we are very far from having that. I want to find Amy as fast as possible, and I'm telling you, contacting the selling agents is our fastest way to gain legal access to check them out."

It makes sense that a law enforcement officer would not be able to flout the law in the way that Sheldon would prefer. After five days with no progress, his desire to pursue this quickly is intensifying with every passing minute. Maybe waiting until morning would be the sensible thing to do, but he is feeling neither sensible nor reasonable. He can't think beyond the ever-growing need to have Amy back. Maybe the deputy can't blatantly violate the law, but that doesn't mean that Sheldon can't choose to do so.

Perhaps he ought not to divulge his plan. "Fine," he offers in fake concession. "If you think that it's best to wait until morning, then so be it."

DiSalvo raises his eyebrows. "Really? Um, okay, meet me back here at eight in the morning, and we'll take care of this straight away."

The deputy extends his hand. Remembering the man's insistence on politeness, Sheldon forces himself to reach out and shake it. "Try not to get your hopes up too much here, okay? I appreciate your investigative work today, but keep in mind that this is all still utter conjecture. Your deductive reasoning skills are solid, and I know how difficult it can be to try to work out what a person like this thief might have chosen to do, presuming that you're even correct about that person's involvement."

If he weren't experiencing one of the worst days of his life, then Sheldon might've been able to appreciate the compliment. Instead, he merely gathers his coat and map, trying not to raise the deputy's suspicions. He nods in acknowledgement of DiSalvo's praise.

As Sheldon opens the door to leave, the deputy pats him on the back and looks at him with his head cocked. "You're quite talented at thinking like a potentially crazy person. I wonder why that is?"

* * *

—-

* * *

It feels like an eternity before Amy reaches the front door. She has to maneuver herself up onto her knees in order to reach the high placement of the deadbolt lock. Exerting this much effort in her current condition has left her exhausted, and she wobbles, unsteady on her knees, as she twists the metal lock and then the knob of the door.

Swinging the heavy door inward, a cool rush of fresh air sweeps across her face, and Amy takes a deep breath, enjoying her first hints of freedom. Too smart to relax for more than an instant, she shifts her attention back to the task at hand. Squinting into the distance reveals no signs of Simon's return, but it has gotten too dark to see very far.

The houses on both sides of her are look like they are too far away to hear her even if she shouts at the top of her lungs. Her voice is weak from disuse and exhaustion, but she gives it a try anyway. As expected, she does not see or hear anyone in response to her pleas.

If she can get herself near the road, maybe a passing car will be able to spot her. It might be too dark, but if need be, she will lie in the middle of the road, a desperate human speed bump. Hopefully it will not come to that.

There are five steps leading from the front porch to ground level. Dizzy and addled by increasing levels of pain, Amy has a difficult time trying to navigate herself downward. The first step goes well enough, but when she goes to plant her good foot for the next one, she slips and tumbles down the rest of the way. Instinct causes her to catch herself with her hands. It's a good thing for her injured head but a terrible thing for her sprained wrist.

She wouldn't have thought it possible for things to hurt even more, but Amy cries out at the new barrage to her neural pain receptors. Involuntary tears edge out of the corners of her eyes, blurring her already limited vision in the dark. She curls into a ball and waits for the initial burning agony to fade.

That can't have been the optimal way to get herself down the stairs, but at least she has made it this far. Psyching herself up to resume her escape route, Amy turns her head to gauge the remaining distance to the street.

To her great dismay, her view of the street is blocked by the long legs of a person standing in the middle of her path. The smell of cigarettes and the man's distinctive sigh are enough to let her know who has found her in this predicament.

No. No, no, no.

She tries to crawl away, but it's a futile gesture of defiance. He scoops her up like she weighs nothing at all and walks up the stairs with ease. Devastated and furious, Amy swats at his face and chest, knowing full well that the action is liable to do more damage to her than it does to him. The sound of the front door closing behind them causes her to let loose a hoarse scream.

"God damn it! What the hell, Amy?" he growls.

He steps to the back of the house, quick to cover the distance that had felt like an endless expanse to her just a short time ago. It's useless and doesn't slow his pace in the least, but she continues to bat at him with her weak arms.

When they reach Amy's bedroom prison, he plops her back onto the soft mattress. She would've preferred the hard gravel of freedom to the softness under her back right now.

"Seriously, what the fuck?"

If he expects an answer, he can damn well forget it. Between the pain and the fear, she cannot even begin to compose herself well enough to form words. It's hard enough to choke back the pointless impulse to scream again.

Simon paces back and forth, running his hand through his long hair. "Did you take the Oxycodone again or something? I thought we were over these psychotic episodes of yours."

Psychotic episodes of hers? The gross irony of his words begins to push Amy away from her fear and towards white hot rage instead.

"I mean, I told you not to get up. How do you expect to heal if you do this stupid stuff to yourself?"

How could she do that to herself? Amy swallows hard and gives him the angriest, most defiant look that she can manage.

"Would it kill you to just relax and be grateful for what I've done for you instead of fighting me like I'm the enemy?"

Her growing anger makes Amy feel stronger every second. He is the enemy!

He stops pacing and turns to face her, his arms folded to indicate his own anger. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Through gritted teeth she growls, "I just wanted to go home!"

* * *

—-


	15. Chapter 15

—

* * *

CHAPTER 15

* * *

Ever since DiSalvo cleared him of any wrongdoing, Sheldon has been making regular use of Amy's car. Thankfully, she took the time to teach him how to drive last year.

The car bucks when he hits the gas to accelerate away from the stop sign. She's going to need to have her car serviced when she gets back. Sheldon's transition into second gear doesn't go much smoother, and it makes him wish once again that Amy had chosen to buy a car with an automatic transmission. The third pedal that he needs to operate only adds needless complication to an already awkward task.

He remembers the patient way that she taught him how to operate the clutch all those months ago, and how no matter what she had instructed, he still mixed up the pedals from time to time. Though she would smile and gently tease him about it, she never made him feel inferior for his mistakes. Instead, she kept insisting that she had every confidence in him and encouraged him to continue trying his best.

Distracted by the more important task of searching for her, he has been grinding the gears of her car a lot these past few days. The memories are pleasant, but Sheldon longs for the real thing. He wants to have Amy back at his side so that she can tease him about his poor driving skills in person.

There are five houses for sale along the stretch from the medical clinic to the trail entrance. Three of the first four he checked are still being occupied by the owners. When he checked those three, the residents were startled by his appearance on their doorstep, but they were cooperative enough folks once Sheldon explained the reason for his presence.

The fourth house proved to be empty of any and all furnishings. The windows had no curtains, blinds, or shades, so it had been an easy enough task to peek in the windows with the aid of the flashlight setting on his cellphone. There had been no sign of any interlopers, bespectacled brunettes or otherwise.

It's the final house that piques his interest the most anyway. The closest to the trail, it would've been the most likely hideout, if his theories about Amy's rescuer turned captor are correct. After all, how far could a man carry an injured woman without anyone witnessing the incident?

When he sees the 'for sale' sign, Sheldon pulls over to the side of the road across from the house in question. Once he turns off the headlights, he realizes how quickly the night has become dark after sunset. Stepping from the car, his heart pounds in hopeful anticipation. While intuition is nonsense, hokum, balderdash, he remains certain that Amy is here.

He walks across the quiet street, noting the lack of light coming from the house. That will make it easier for him to approach the place undetected, but it also might mean that there are curtains or other window coverings that will obscure his attempts to peek inside.

With as much stealthiness as possible, Sheldon strolls up the yard at the side of the house. Tense and on edge, he listens for any signs of life. His cover of darkness is partially lifted when the streetlights in the neighborhood begin to wink on. It startles him, but it's nothing compared to the startling feeling of something brushing up against his pant leg.

He gasps and leaps back from the sensation. When he looks to find the source of his disturbance, he breathes a sigh of relief to see that it's only a sleek black cat who is responsible. It stares at him, its green eyes shining in the increasing light from the street.

It seems to be quite friendly for a cat. He would've expected indifference, but even in the face of Sheldon's brusque retreat, this animal closes the distance and rubs against his pant leg once again. In better times, he would've bemoaned the accumulation of cat hair on his clothing and then inevitably succumbed to the adorable charm of this little fur ball. These are not good times.

The cat's ears perk up, and in the next instant, it bolts away at top speed. Whether it's on the hunt or on the run, Sheldon can't tell. He begins to suspect the latter when he creeps up closer to a side window and starts to hear the muffled sounds of people talking inside the house.

His heart pounding anew, Sheldon freezes his forward momentum. Despite the fact that the sounds are soft and indistinct, he would recognize that voice anywhere. Amy really is here. Goosebumps break out over his body, and he can't stifle his sharp gasp of elation at having found her. It's not difficult for him to rein in his joy, though, tempered as it is by his ongoing fear for her safety. He stretches one hand out and presses it against the cool, smooth glass of the window. She is so close to him right now, but she's not anywhere near close enough.

Even though he fully anticipated the possibility that she would be here, he has to think carefully about what he should do next. Getting help seems like the most obvious first step. Not wanting anyone to overhear him speaking, he decides to text DiSalvo in lieu of calling 911.

The deputy is quick to respond that help is on the way, and he also texts back his demands that Sheldon not try to enter the house by himself under any circumstances. That request is absurd, of course. He can't even come close to convincing himself that staying back is a viable option. If Amy is being held here against her will, if she's in any kind of danger whatsoever, then he can't risk waiting for much longer. The Palmdale Sheriff's station is over twenty minutes away, and Sheldon is impatient now.

In this uncertain moment, he finds himself coming to appreciate one of the old hillbilly sayings of his father. As a child, he was often told that 'a good Texan man always carries a gun'. Sheldon has always considered that pithy bit of folk wisdom to be dangerous nonsense, but right now he finds himself wishing that he had followed the man's advice just this once.

* * *

—-

* * *

Simon is so tired of dealing with this woman's bullshit.

He sighs and turns on the dusty table lamp that rests on the table next to Amy's bed. The scant light from the moon doesn't illuminate the room very well through the closed blinds, and the old lamp isn't much better. It flickers and gives off only a muted glow. Whether it needs a higher wattage bulb or a cleaner lampshade is unclear. There's a good chance it's both.

With this added light, Simon can make out the mix of anger and fear that show up in Amy's facial expression. She is glaring at him, but her eyes dart around like a trapped rabbit. Her chest rises up and down while she obviously ponders the age-old, animalistic question of fight versus flight. She wiggles up into a seated position, leaning against the headboard of the bed. Flight's not a viable option, as she's no doubt just discovered, and he's pretty sure that she's all out of fight.

"Of course you want to go home. Quite honestly, I'd like nothing better than to not have to deal with you for even one more day. In fact, if I ever come across your injured body in the wilderness again, I'm going to turn around and run like hell instead of going out of my way to help you. Why do you keep being so damn angry?"

She is clearly still building up to a full head of steam, so he stays quiet, waiting to experience the full brunt of her wrath. Maybe then he'll finally be able to figure out what the fuck her problem is. He doesn't have to wait long.

"You can't seriously expect me to believe that? If you wanted me gone, then I wouldn't still be here. If you really wanted to help me, you would've gotten me to a hospital."

"I already explained that to you, several times over—"

"No!" she hollers. "Instead of waking up somewhere safe, I found myself here, tied to a bed by a man that I don't even know. You told me that I'd been fighting you, that you'd changed my clothes, and that you'd been drugging me."

That's accurate, but when she says it all out loud like that, he realizes how bad it sounds. At least her voice is stronger and bitchier than he has heard it be over the last few days, a good sign that she is healing well. He finds himself speechless, but that's fine because it looks like she isn't done with her tirade anyway.

"You insisted that I shouldn't try to leave, that I'd be sorry if I tried, and that you couldn't try to help me contact my friends. Don't stand there now and act like you've been innocently trying to help me!"

Stunned by her recitation of events, Simon takes a step backwards and sits on the edge of the comfortable recliner. "That's… holy shit, it sounds kind of rapey when you put it like that."

"Kind of rapey?!" she shouts. Her voice has reached an entirely new level of shrill.

"Don't get me wrong, under different circumstances, I'd be happy to get it on. But like this? Forget it. I'm not some pervert."

She stares at him with flushed cheeks and shiny, angry eyes, and he decides that maybe he should have kept part of that to himself, that such a flippant reply is inappropriate at a time like this. Still, he'd prefer to be completely honest. That reminds him to add one more thing. "Well, I am a pervert, but not like that."

"You kidnapped me, you bastard!"

It's so ridiculous that Simon wants to laugh, but he doesn't want to provoke her and make things even worse. He had never actually considered what all of this must be like from her perspective. If that has been her interpretation of events, then it's no wonder why she's been fighting him like he's some kind of monster. All of her strange behavior is starting to make a lot more sense.

In spite of her barrage of accusations, he tries to keep his voice calm. "I didn't kidnap you. I saved your life. Today is the first day that you've even been coherent enough to ask me about contacting your loved ones and going home."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a prepaid phone. Not daring to go near her in her current state, he tosses the device over to her where it lands in the bunched up sheet near her knees. Continuing his explanation, he adds, "To solve that problem, I went out tonight to get one of these cash paid phones. They're untraceable and private enough for occasions when phone calls are unavoidable. You're stable enough at this point that you could easily go home, assuming you don't keep trying to exert yourself in the stupid way you did tonight. Well, you're physically stable, if not otherwise. Do you always assume the worst in people?"

Amy's angry gaze wavers for the first time. She looks puzzled in the instant before she shifts her attention to the phone next to her. Picking it up and examining it, she seems amazed to have it in her possession.

"Everything I've been telling you is true. I took you here because I've grown to fucking hate hospitals and because I'm more than capable of taking care of the kind of injuries you sustained. I restrained you for your own safety. If you'd been acting crazy and trying to get up in a way that would cause yourself harm, they would've done the same at a hospital. In fact, everything that I did is exactly what would've happened at a hospital. I changed your clothes because you were filthy, and I gave you drugs to help ease your pain."

She swallows hard and wrinkles form on her forehead. It's clear that she's trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Hopefully, this time she will end up with a more accurate picture.

He decides that it's best to be straightforward about the things she has been insinuating. "I have never had any intention of keeping you here against your will. My plan was to help you and then for us to go our separate ways. I'm no worse of a pervert than anyone else, and I sure as hell don't sexually assault people. When I looked at you, even to change your clothes or clean you up, I never saw you as anything other than another injured patient. Clinical detachment is second nature to me."

Amy stares at her knees, holding her head in her hands. He stays quiet to give her time to contemplate his words, for her injured brain to weigh the truth of what he has said, to work the new information into her previous assumptions. A few minutes pass before she drops her hands to her sides and leans back to rest against the headboard again. With her eyes closed, he starts to wonder if she has fallen asleep again. She looks exhausted.

Her skepticism may be fading, but he can still detect it in her weary voice when she asks, "I don't doubt that you worked as a doctor. You're probably right that my wrist and ankle are just sprained. As a scientist myself, however, I am very aware of the seriousness of a head injury. How am I supposed to believe in your good intentions when I could have wound up dying from some unseen complication?"

Simon rubs his own tired eyes. It's difficult not to feel insulted by her various accusations. "First of all, your head laceration was bleeding a lot, just like most head wounds, but it wasn't deep. I wrapped your head with a t-shirt and that stemmed most of the flow. Beyond that, there wasn't much that I or anyone could do for you until I hiked the mile to get you to civilization. By the time I got you this far, I had a very accurate sense of your condition. You obviously don't remember this, but you were in and out of wakefulness even from the very beginning. You weren't actually unconscious because you were able to respond to stimuli. I'm not a shitty doctor. Your symptoms were signs of a concussion, but nothing like a diffuse axonal injury or traumatic subarachnoid hemorrhage. I know all of the warning signs to look for, and if you had started showing more serious symptoms, I would've knocked on doors or flagged down a passing car. You weren't in grave danger at any point. I'm not the fucking monster that you seem to think I am."

Amy runs her finger along the phone, undoubtedly savoring the available connection to her home and loved ones. She looks Simon in the eye, and for the first time, she doesn't look at him with fear or outright hatred.

Sensing that he has been successful at helping her begin to unravel the truth, he lets some of his own anger at the situation come to the surface. "I saved your life, finding you out there and bringing you back. Even though you made it difficult, I treated your injuries, kept you hydrated and comfortable. Hell, I even robbed a clinic I used to volunteer at to get the supplies and drugs you needed. I've never stolen anything in my life before that, and now I'm probably caught on some surveillance tape committing a crime. You think I'm a criminal, and you're right, but it was for your benefit."

He tries to control his rant. Under his breath, however, it still leaks out, and he mutters, "All of this thankless bullshit only for you to accuse me of being a rapist, kidnapper, or psychopath. Fuck."

It's not clear whether she hears that last bit or not, but she sounds more apologetic than skeptical when she voices her next question. "Then why did you do it?"

After everything he's been through for her, this is the easiest question of all to answer. "Because once a doctor, always a doctor. I might not want to practice anymore, but that doesn't mean I can pass by a person who is suffering and not do everything in my power to help make them better."

* * *

—-


	16. Chapter 16

—

* * *

CHAPTER 16

* * *

"I wish you would've explained all this from the beginning," Amy says. Even if everything Simon has said is true, she's still angry. There's no excuse for him to have not told her everything, instead leaving her and her injured brain to try to solve the mystery of his ridiculous choices with incomplete information.

He scoffs. "I did. I must've gone over every detail five or six times on the first day alone. You kept forgetting every time you fell asleep, which isn't all that unusual right after a traumatic brain injury. Anyway, I thought I had explained everything well enough this last time, but I was sick of the process by then, and I guess I might have missed some facts."

Amy is incredulous. "You guess? There's no guessing here. You definitely missed some facts!"

"Yeah, well, you also jumped to some conclusions." His voice sounds defensive, and he folds his arms across his chest before adding, "You shouldn't presume important things like that."

She can't think of any other conclusion she could've drawn under these circumstances. "Maybe I shouldn't. But more importantly, you sure as hell shouldn't tie an injured woman to a bed in an abandoned house and leave her to think the worst instead of explaining yourself as thoroughly as possible. There's no 'maybe' about that at all!"

Finally, he starts to look chastened. His voice is soft and regretful when he admits, "I really thought you knew, but I guess not. I'm sorry."

Not in a forgiving mood, Amy doesn't respond. She supposes she should start to feel relief, but all she can muster is exhaustion. Beyond the swamping tiredness, it's hard to feel much of anything other than the pounding pain in her head and the burning ache of her injured limbs.

After a moment of silence, he asks, "Who are you going to call?"

Amy wants to speak to Sheldon more than anyone else in the whole world right now, but she knows there are certain things that must take precedence. She licks her chapped lips and says, "For as long as I've been gone, I'm certain that I'll need to speak to law enforcement. I could call my friends, but they would only call 911 anyway, so I might as well do that myself."

Simon nods, and she sees the dejected slump of his shoulders. He mumbles, "After everything that you've said, I know how shitty all of this will sound. They're going to want to arrest me."

As exhausted, confused, and angry as she feels right now, Amy still has no desire to pursue charges against this man. Everything that he has told her has turned the past day upside down. It's hard to accept that she could've gotten everything so wrong. At least he is now starting to show signs that he understands how awful all of this has been for her.

"They're not going to arrest you. It's true that you should've called for help, but you did save my life."

Simon looks at her with an expression of guarded hope. "So you do believe me?"

She fiddles with the phone in her hand while she considers her answer. "It's been difficult to think clearly, but I have to admit that what you've said sounds right. As far as I can tell, you've done nothing to hurt me and have actively taken many steps to help me."

His sigh of relief is loud, and he runs his hands over his face before wiping them on his pant legs. "I sure hope the fuzz is as reasonable as you are. But even if they believe both of us, they might not be so forgiving about my little visit to gather medical supplies."

That's a sensible thing to worry about. "Yeah, they might not look kindly upon that particular decision. However, much like your poor decision to keep me here, if your intention was to help save a life, then I think you'll be okay."

He grunts but doesn't look convinced.

Amy continues, "Perhaps it would be easiest if you aren't here when they respond to my call."

His eyes flit to hers, turning wide with apparent surprise. "You're going to let me go?"

The irony of him being the one to ask that question is not lost on her. She never expected to hear something like that spoken in his voice rather than hers. She shrugs. "I don't know your real name, and I doubt the police would be able to find you. If I explain everything that happened, I doubt they'll care enough to pursue you anyway."

For the first time ever, his smile doesn't creep her out. "I want to go back to my life just as much as you do."

Rather than return his smile, Amy's face contorts with a yawn. She doesn't remember ever feeling so tired in her entire life. After everything that she's been through, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to bring herself to apologize for her assumptions about Simon, nor does she think she can forgive him for scaring the hell out of her. If he had just acted like a normal person in the first place, none of this would've happened.

In spite of all that, the fact remains that he did save her life. It's a struggle for her to force out the words, and she can't manage more than a strangled whisper when she says, "Thank you for helping me."

He nods at the same time as he stands up. There isn't much around to pack, but he shoves a few errant items into his backpack. "You should call soon, before you fall asleep again. If you're lucky enough to have people who love you, then I'm sure you don't want to make them wait any longer than necessary to have you back."

Amy thinks of Sheldon, her mother, Penny, Bernadette, and the guys. She is lucky to have them all in her life, and she finds herself with a brief twinge of pity for the strange, lonely man who has kept her here for the past five days.

Right before he leaves, he turns back to her and says, "No offense, but I hope I never see or hear from you again."

Feeling safer and more relaxed with every passing minute, Amy is able to work up the nerve to return the sentiment. "Well, it looks like we finally have something in common. No offense, but even though you saved my life, I still think you're the biggest jerk I've ever met."

He laughs out loud at that and offers a rejoinder, "Yeah, you're right. I sort of am. But you know what? I still think you're an impossible pain in the ass."

With that parting statement, he strides out of the room. Amy can hear his footsteps echo off the wooden floor as he retreats. His exit out the back door involves a noisy thump or two, but shortly thereafter she can sense his absence. Alone and free at last, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, savoring the welcome feeling of freedom.

She gives him a minute to get some distance away. It's difficult to fight the heavy weight of her eyelids while she waits, and even the promise of going home is barely enough to keep her awake. When at last she thumbs out the three digits to call for help, she wonders if anyone else has ever felt so happy to call 911 on their own behalf.

* * *

—-

* * *

Making his way around the outside of the house, Sheldon stops at each window and tries to peek inside. Every single window he has checked so far has been blocked with either curtains or blinds, causing his frustration to escalate as the minutes go by. Even worse, his attempts to nudge open each one have shown him that these entry points are also locked. The front door is no better.

As he has at many other points in his life, he wishes he could possess special powers like the superheroes in his comic books. Superman would be able to bust straight through a wall to rescue an endangered woman with finesse and ease. Sheldon figures that if he attempted it, then he would only succeed in dislocating his shoulder.

As he rounds the corner to the back of the house, he continues to check each window. He finds one that seems to have a faint glow peeking out through the tiny gaps in the blinds, so he leans towards it to listen. Once again he can hear voices from within, and they sound much louder from this spot. Sheldon becomes more confident than ever that one of those voices belongs to Amy.

He can't make out specific words, but her tone sounds angry. His heart rate rises as his adrenaline surges, making his entire body sweat and his breathing quicken. A glance to his phone shows no update from DiSalvo, and he can't allow himself to wait one minute longer. Amy might be in danger, and he refuses to stand here like a fool and let something happen to her. He attempts to twist the knob on the back door, only to find it locked just like the rest.

This door seems flimsier than the front door, though. Or at least that's what he wants to believe. Part of him knows that trying to break this door down with nothing but his own body is a fanciful hope, not a scientifically probable outcome. But Sheldon's sense of logic and reason is overrun by his anger and his fear. Eyeing the rear door, he takes several steps back and tries to summon the strength and rage of the Hulk. With a quick burst of speed, he lunges at it, throwing his entire body shoulder first into the solid wood.

As the laws of physics dictate, he bounces impotently off of it, causing no damage other than to his own shoulder. He winces with the pain and laments the fact that his efforts have resulted in nothing but a brief thump of noise. So much for not being a fool.

Rubbing his shoulder and trying to think of a more sensible plan, Sheldon is torn from his thoughts by the sudden movement of the door. It swings inward, and he finds himself face to face with a person that he has never seen before. The stranger emerges slowly, allowing the door to swing closed behind him.

Sheldon stares at the man, whose unkempt beard and long hair remind him of a hippie. Shock shifts to anger in a fraction of a second. "Hey! Who are you? Where's Amy?"

The man doesn't respond to his questions, instead taking a quick step sideways. This person is as tall as he is, and he must outweigh him by a good forty pounds, but that doesn't stop Sheldon from diving at him.

"Shit," the man whispers as he dodges out of the way.

By the time he spins back around, Sheldon sees that the stranger has started sprinting across the backyard. Without a second thought, he races after the man, his arms and legs pumping up and down faster than he ever has in his whole life. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Sheldon's fastest isn't very fast.

In spite of his best efforts, he cannot even come close to catching up. He stops at a neighboring fence, panting and out of breath. Bending at the waist with his hands on his knees, he begins to wonder what he would have even done if he had caught the man. With his next breath, he realizes that the man's absence means that Amy is back there alone.

Mad at himself now for wasting time on a futile chase, he turns on his heel and runs back towards the house, back towards Amy. Feeling frantic and foolish with every stride, he comes to a halt and reaches out to grab the doorknob once again.

"Stop! Police!"

He barely has time to register the words before he finds himself face down on the ground, shoved by a burly officer who now straddles his back. He feels cold metal clamp around his wrists, and tries to catch his breath well enough that he can start to explain.

"Wait!" he gasps. "I'm not the bad guy. That's my girlfriend in there."

"Sure she is, buddy," the officer retorts. "And you just happen to be out here skulking around, sweaty and looking like a maniac, trying to break into this place where someone just called 911. Nothing weird about that at all, eh?"

Sheldon continues to fight for breath and briefly wonders why the officer has addressed him as 'buddy'. Surely one doesn't handcuff one's buddy?

A female officer walks over, and together the two of them haul him to his feet. The woman's pinching grip on his freshly bruised shoulder makes him try to pull away, but that only causes them both to tighten their grips even more. He keeps trying to yank his arm away until the male officer warns, "Calm down, man! We don't want to have to get out the taser."

Having experienced that device before, Sheldon freezes his defiant movements. He looks up at the restraining officers, planning to try to reason with them instead. Before he has a chance to speak, however, he is distracted by the sight of a few paramedics rushing by with an empty stretcher. They throw open the back door, and Sheldon careens his head from side to side, trying but failing to make out anything in the shadows behind them.

The police start to drag him around the side of the house despite his choked protests. "No, you don't understand. I'm the one who made contact with you guys. You're making a mistake!"

"Look, buddy, we got two calls: one from the Sheriff's station and then another two minutes ago from 911 dispatch. You can't be the woman who called into 911, so unless you're a deputy who got beamed here Star Trek style, then save your breath."

Halfway across the front lawn now, Sheldon squeaks, "DiSalvo! I told him to send help here. Call him, he'll tell you. I'm Sheldon Cooper. He knows me."

For the first time, they loosen their hold and look at him with some small degree of credulity. The woman raises an eyebrow and asks, "Oh yeah? So what's his first name?"

He tries to rein in his galloping thoughts, to wrack his brain for the answer to this simple question. It's so unlike him to forget anything, but try as he might, the answer doesn't come. The swirling colored lights of the emergency vehicles don't make it any easier to think. "I can't… I can't remember. I always called him by his last name."

The woman opens the rear door of the police car, and the two of them nudge him inside it. He ducks his head lest it bang off the frame of the door, and before they close him in, he begs one last time, "Please, call him. You've got to straighten this out."

The male officer pulls a phone out of his pocket and holds it up. "Sit tight. We'll let you go after we arrange a quick trip to the station to see Deputy DiSalvo in person, assuming that he verifies your story, of course. It's more likely that we should be calling psych services, but hey, we'll give this a shot first."

They flick the door shut, enclosing him in the small space. His long legs are squeezed into the tight confines of the backseat, with his knees pressed against the hard divider that separates the front seats from the back. Behind him, his hands remain trapped by the cuffs, adding even more to his discomfort. In an effort to keep the encroaching feelings of claustrophobia at bay, he leans his face close to the window to look outside.

Sheldon's breathing begins to slow while he watches the officer place the call that should begin the process of securing his freedom. It is taking much too long, and he has no desire to end up at the station instead of the hospital, but it doesn't look like he's going to have any choice in the matter. He taps his foot impatiently and wishes that he could lecture them about their inefficiency. His attention shifts when he spots new movement behind the officers. The paramedics have emerged from behind the house, and they make their way across the yard, their gurney now burdened by the small lump of a person's body.

He can't see her face, but he can see the long brown hair on the back of her head. "Amy! Amy! Amy!" he shouts. With his hands wedged behind his back, he can't knock on the window, so he futilely bangs his good shoulder into the side of the car instead.

It looks like she is turning her head, but his view becomes obscured as the EMTs move her behind the ambulance doors to load her up. Once the vehicle begins to pull away, he leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes in defeat. He's felt powerless from the moment Amy first broke up with him, and he supposes he really ought to be used to it by now.

Logically, Sheldon knows that the police will soon piece together the truth and that he will see her again before long. At the same time, he wonders when his life might start to make sense again, if things will ever go right again instead of endlessly, helplessly wrong.

* * *

—


	17. Chapter 17

—

* * *

CHAPTER 17

* * *

Penny sits next to Leonard in the drab waiting room of the Palmdale Regional Medical Center. She taps her foot and fidgets, unable to contain her impatience.

After receiving the call from Deputy DiSalvo, she had grabbed Leonard before hurrying to drive to the hospital. They arrived at least an hour after Amy, but they have not been able to see her yet nor have they received any recent updates about her condition. Between the mad dash to get here and the previous days spent on frenzied searches, it is frustrating to now sit and do nothing.

Beside her, Leonard taps his fingers on the arms of his chair, no doubt working off some excess energy. Every ten seconds or so he glances down at his phone. It's almost midnight, meaning they've already been here for close to two hours, and it worries her that Sheldon has not been answering calls from either of them. She knows how much he would want to be here right now. To work off her own anxious feelings, Penny examines her fingernails, trying and failing not to pick at her manicure.

Her head shoots up at the sound of someone rushing into the room. At long last, it's Sheldon. She looks him over from head to toe and sees that his hair is sticking up in messy tufts, his clothes are rumpled and dusty, and his face is shiny with sweat. He glances at her and Leonard with frantic, red-rimmed eyes.

"Have you seen Amy? How is she?" he asks, running his hand through his tousled hair.

"Where the hell have you been?" Penny asks, wanting answers of her own.

"The sheriff's office. They can't seem to stop trying to put me in jail. DiSalvo finally came in to clear things up, but that's not important any more. Now, what do you know about Amy?"

She wants to know more about this trip to the police, but until they have news about Amy, she supposes her curiosity will have to wait.

Leonard answers, "We were told that she is resting, but we haven't seen her or gotten any kind of detailed update yet. Why don't you sit—"

Sheldon turns and strides towards the nurse's station, apparently as uninterested in sitting still as she and Leonard have been. They stand and go over to join him. Maybe he will fare better at getting information from the lady at the desk than they did.

The nurse is pale and thin, and her dark hair is cut short and tidily. She wears thin spectacles, solid navy blue scrubs, and a strict facial expression.

"I'm sorry sir, but like I told these two, until we finish our assessment, I can't allow anyone to see her other than immediate family."

Penny wants to argue again, but the woman had not been swayed by her earlier insistence that she is as good as a sister to Amy. She wonders if the stubborn nurse will be able to withstand a stubborn Sheldon.

"I am family. I'm her boyfriend."

The woman looks unimpressed. Penny can't really blame her. With his sloppy appearance and crazy eyes, he looks like a guest who should be screened and escorted to the nearest exit.

"Look, if you give me your name, we'll ask her if she'd like to see you just as soon as we can."

She and Leonard gave their names quite some time ago, so she suspects that 'as soon as we can' is a pretty flexible timetable around here. From the look on his face, she can tell that Sheldon finds this proposal unacceptable.

"I want to see her right now," he demands, raising his voice.

"There is protocol to be followed, sir. These rules are for our patients' own protection."

"If you can't let me in, then your protocol is deficient!"

The nurse narrows her eyes at all three of them. "Do I need to call security?"

"No, no more law enforcement," he pleads. "They're always trying to tase me."

That statement isn't going to help his cause. The nurse takes a step back and raises a nervous eyebrow. Thankfully, before things can escalate further, Leonard steps in and says, "Wait. Sheldon, aren't you and Amy one another's medical emergency contact person?"

Her little man is a genius, remembering how those weirdos celebrated Valentine's Day a few years ago. That tidbit of information might help get Sheldon in to see Amy before he starts causing an even bigger scene.

The nurse continues to eye Sheldon as if she's two seconds away from calling to have him hauled away. He gives a grateful looking nod to Leonard and says, "Yes, of course. That's right!"

He turns his wild gaze back to the woman and insists, "Check her information and her health care directive. I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper."

The nurse steps hesitantly forward and taps a few keys on her keyboard, darting her eyes up every few seconds to give him a few more glares. Her expression morphs into one of surprise when she says, "Well, how about that? I do see a Sheldon Cooper here as Ms. Fowler's—"

"Dr. Fowler."

Penny rolls her eyes at his interruption. He's about to get what he wants, but here he is making it more difficult on himself.

With a curt voice, the nurse finishes, " _Dr._ Fowler's emergency contact."

"Finally. It would've been easier if you'd just let me in to begin with. Now, where do I find her?"

The nurse tilts her head and shoots him one last wary look. "I'm going to need to see some I.D. first."

* * *

—

* * *

"Amy has already been through triage and admitted for observation. Her doctors have ordered a few precautionary tests, and they want to keep her here at least until morning."

The nurse who leads him to Amy's room is decidedly more helpful than the one who gave him a difficult time at the information desk. Where the other woman was thin and severe, this nurse is more rotund and kind. She looks almost too young to be a nurse, with her smooth, dark face and bright Snoopy scrubs. This one even smiles from time to time. More importantly, she is willing to provide information.

Even with his efficient guide, Sheldon feels increasingly nervous with every step he takes. His hatred of hospitals is well entrenched, and the fact that Amy is in this one somewhere, injured and in pain, only makes it a more ominous place than ever.

They come to a halt outside of one of many nondescript rooms. The door to this one is closed, but he sees Amy's name printed on some paperwork attached to a clipboard outside the door. In all capital letters, the paper shouts, 'AMY FOWLER'. He has to fight the impulse to pick up the clipboard and write in her middle name. It doesn't look right without the FARRAH.

Sheldon knows he should be focusing on something more useful. But every time he starts pondering Amy's condition, every time he starts thinking of her ordeal and her possible injuries, he finds it more and more difficult to breathe. With the knowledge that she is resting only one door's width away, the anxiety is almost impossible to keep at bay.

He wonders if perhaps it is the not knowing that is the worst of it. The nurse clears her throat, breaking him from his trance. He's not sure how long he has been standing there, staring at the door in silence. As Amy's medical contact person, he supposes that they will tell him about her status, but it's difficult to ask questions when he is so nervous about what the answers might be. His voice is strained and quiet when he finally manages to ask, "You said they want to keep her overnight and do a few tests. What else can you tell me about her condition? I want to know everything."

After a quick nod of understanding, the nurse says, "Okay. Well, first of all, she is stable. Her injuries were sustained over five days ago, and she received some degree of treatment during that time, so her situation is a bit unique as trauma cases go. Orthopedics wants an X-ray of her right wrist and her left ankle. It is suspected that both are no worse than sprained, but it's a simple matter to double check for any kind of fracture. Dr. Fowler's most serious issue is a wound to her head. She has a laceration that has been closed with stitches, and she is not actively bleeding, but the blunt force trauma to her head was a significant enough event that the neurology department wants us to keep her under observation for the night."

The nurse clears her throat before continuing, "Dr. Fowler was in varying states of consciousness during the early days after her injuries occurred. In spite of her insistence that it wasn't necessary, we advised her to allow us to do a brief gynecological exam, and she did eventually acquiesce."

Sheldon looks up from where he has been staring at Amy's door. Thankfully, the nurse doesn't hesitate in her explanation. "The physical exam showed no signs of sexual trauma whatsoever, just as she had anticipated, but the extra peace of mind never hurts."

He nods absentmindedly. It's a relief to know what's going on, but at the same time, his chest constricts at the fact that such an exam has been necessary in the first place. Even though there is no indication of sexual assault, just hearing the term is enough to make his jaw clench and his heart pound with the desire to fight someone.

The man he wants to rage against is not within reach, so he forces himself to take a few calming breaths. He counts to ten and reaches his hand out to steady himself on the doorframe. He has one last question, and it comes out as a quiet murmur. "Is she in pain?"

There is a brief pause before the woman answers. "I would imagine so. She has been refusing pain medication beyond the basic ibuprofen. That's an unusual choice given this kind of head injury."

Sheldon nods and starts turning the doorknob. Before he pushes it open, she adds, "One last thing. A deputy from the Sheriff's Department has requested that no one speak to Amy about the specifics of her ordeal until they have gotten a chance to question her. He should be by soon. The name was Jack DiSalvo."

Jack! Now that he hears the deputy's first name again, he wonders how he could have forgotten it. He nods at the nurse and remembers his manners. "Thank you."

She hurries off to a room further down the hall, leaving Sheldon all by himself. He gently swings open Amy's door, not wanting to be alone for long.

His heart skips a beat when he sees her lying there. Finally, she's back.

He closes the door behind him, taking care to do so as quietly as possible. Amy's eyes are closed, and he sees her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her sleeping breaths. There is a tidy bandage along her hairline near her right temple, and he sees a black fabric sleeve wrapped around her right wrist. He can't see her injured ankle, but there is a bulge under the sheet, an indication that it is being kept elevated.

On the other side of the room is a second bed. The privacy curtain between the two areas is half open, revealing that this other space is currently unoccupied. Content to be alone with Amy, Sheldon takes slow steps to her bedside. Up close there are scrapes and faded bruises visible on her cheeks, arms, and hands. Her fingernails are a ragged mess, and he makes a mental note to pick up some clippers and a nail file so that he can fix those for her.

The room is quiet, with the exception of her soft snores and the steady beeps of a heart monitor. Her uninjured hand has an IV in it, making him wonder if there are any areas of her body left that aren't hurting right now.

She appears to be resting peacefully, but he is tempted to wake her nonetheless. He wants to see the unusual hazel shade of her eyes, to see the spark of intelligence that is brighter than that of any other person he has ever known. After a brief moment of contemplation, he decides that waking her would be a more selfish action than he is willing to partake in at this time.

Still, the compulsion to touch her is overwhelming. For most of Sheldon's life, he has been incredibly touch averse. Amy, however, remains a notable exception. There has always been something different about her. He remembers how she once experimented by holding his hand and, in another instance, how she requested he cuddle her in a moment of sadness. If anyone else would've asked for such things from him, they would've been met with a derisive no. But not Amy. From holding hands to hugs to kisses, physical expressions of affection have grown steadily bolder since those first interactions.

Having not touched her in over two weeks, he now feels touch starved as opposed to touch averse. It's still a bit difficult to admit to himself just how much he wants to feel her skin. As gently as possible, he brushes the tips of his fingers against the part of her hand that doesn't have the IV attached. Her skin is soft, but slightly chilled. After he pulls his hand back, he reaches for her blanket and tugs it up to cover her more fully.

A black vinyl chair is several feet away, and Sheldon nudges it over so that he can sit close to the bed. Having her right next to him frees something in his brain, and he feels a relaxed sleepiness that he hasn't felt since before she went missing—perhaps even since she first broke things off.

Maybe remembering the breakup should make him sad, but it doesn't. She has articulated her reasoning in her letters, and he understands her concerns. Even so, she has it all so very wrong that it makes it difficult for him to think of the breakup as real. With her decision based on incorrect assumptions and incomplete information, he considers it null and void. In fact, he is rather looking forward to haranguing her about her logical failures once she is feeling better.

Sheldon battles back the selfish urge to touch her hand a second time, but he does allow himself to lean his body against the side of her bed. Seconds tick by, marked by the rhythm of Amy's breaths and the consistent electronic pings of her heart monitor. He yawns and fights to keep his eyes open, but each blink becomes longer and longer as he is lulled by the comfort of her presence.

Gravity is always a powerful force, and it feels stronger than ever right now. His heavy head plops gently onto the soft blanket near her hip. Before drifting off to sleep, his final thought is spent hoping that he won't wake her up by drooling through her sheet.

* * *

—

* * *

Amy gasps awake at a firm squeezing sensation around her bicep. A quick look at her surroundings reminds her that she is no longer trapped in that house, and the relief is instantaneous. Her body still hurts in more places than she cares to consider, but at least her brief nap is allowing her to think a bit more clearly now.

On her left is the source of her awakening, a nurse in Snoopy scrubs who is taking a blood pressure reading. "Sorry, 1 AM vitals check," she whispers.

The woman gives her an apologetic expression and then inclines her head downward, covering her lips with her index finger, the universal symbol to stay quiet. She follows the woman's prompting gesture and looks down to see why.

At her hip is Sheldon's sleeping face. He looks pale, tired, and more gaunt than she remembers. His hair is sticking up at odd angles, his face is smooshed awkwardly against the bed, and it looks like he's been doing some serious drooling on the linens. Still, he is every bit as attractive to her as he's always been. Even as injured as she is, the sight of his face so close to her southern borders causes her bruised brain to skip down an extremely prurient path.

Her heartbeat monitor speeds up, and the nurse wrinkles her brow in concern. Amy feels heat rush to her cheeks, embarrassed to be caught staring at the man she loves while the result pings out on the monitor for an outsider to hear. The nurse suddenly gives a soft snort, having no doubt figured out the cause of her patient's 'distress.' She turns her eyes to Amy and silently mouths, 'He's cute.'

The altered rhythm of sound is enough to rouse the cute man from his sleep. Sheldon blinks open pink-rimmed eyes, and when his gaze lock with hers, he stops blinking altogether. He does not break eye contact while he slowly raises his head up from the mattress.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

Before she can answer, she sees him swallow hard and then turn to the nurse. His tone is more brusque when he addresses the woman, "What's wrong? Why is her heartbeat racing?"

Amy shoots her a pleading look. The woman smiles and shrugs. "Oh, I probably startled her when I woke her with this blood pressure check."

"Are you sure? It's not a sign that something's wrong?"

The nurse's smile widens, and she winks at him. "No sir, I'd say it's a fantastic sign. Banging out a strong, steady rhythm can be a very good thing. If you know what I mean."

Sheldon, of course, doesn't seem to know what she means. Amy watches his brow wrinkle up in puzzlement.

After a brief, knowing glance of camaraderie, she pulls the clip from Amy's finger, removing the pesky sound from the room. Addressing Amy this time, she continues, "In fact, your heart rate has been quite consistent, and you don't need to keep this on all the time anymore. That's the good news. The bad news is that I still have to be back to annoy you at regular intervals all night to check your vitals. If everything continues to look healthy, I bet they'll spring you in the morning."

She gives the woman a grateful nod, and Sheldon appears equally assuaged, if for different reasons. He returns his attention to Amy, staring at her with intensity, but at least now he blinks from time to time.

The nurse scribbles something onto her chart and starts to head to the door. "Don't you two get too comfortable," she warns as she leaves. "Radiology will be here shortly for X-rays."

The door clicks shut behind the woman, leaving Amy in awkward silence with Sheldon. That's okay. If they weren't sitting in awkward silence, they would be sitting and awkwardly talking instead, and she's not quite sure how to even begin saying everything that needs to be said. Her probable infertility, the breakup, the letters, her journey, the accident, and her captivity all swirl through her mind. There are so many things to explain, but for now she enjoys the comforting blue shade of his irises.

She has been dreaming for days about having his familiar face by her side rather than Simon's mysterious countenance. It is kind of surreal to have it finally come true. He looks every bit as tired and stressed out as she feels, but even in his exhausted state, he doesn't seem to be having any difficulty focusing on her.

In fact, soon his scrutiny becomes unnerving. Is he angry? Tired? Sad? Happy to see her? Anxious for explanations? Maybe he's all of those things. The desire to know what he's thinking has grown stronger with every passing second, and she can't stand the silence anymore. She decides to break their staring contest by volleying back his earlier question. "Sheldon, are you okay?"

He nods at her very slowly. "I am now," he whispers, and she thinks she detects a hint of a smile forming in the thin line of his mouth.

His answer intrigues her. The ragged appearance of his eyes, hair, and clothing tells her that he has not been doing well in her absence. Regardless of their relationship status, if he had been the one to go missing, she knows she would have been a wreck too. Worried for him, she wants to know more.

When he doesn't offer anything else, she licks her dry lips and tries to prompt him. "Because you look kind of terrible."

She understands how ridiculous that must sound given her own current state. It's not like she's prepped for a beauty pageant here herself. A mirror isn't necessary for her to know how bad it must be. Surely tumbling off part of a cliff hasn't done anything to improve her physical allure.

He shrugs a little but doesn't speak, so she continues to prod, "Have you been eating and sleeping okay?"

For some reason, something goes through that brilliant mind of his that causes him to smile. "No, I haven't."

The thought of him not taking care of himself is upsetting. If he were the one in danger, she'd never be able to eat or sleep like normal either, so it's easy to empathize. Still, she hates to think that he has been suffering because of her in any way. What bothers her the most, though, is the fact that he seems happy about it.

"Sheldon, you know as well as I do the effects of poor nutrition and disrupted sleep patterns on the brain."

His smile widens, perplexing her further. "Oh?"

"Yes, of course. Lack of sleep causes serious impairment in cognitive function. Neurons start to malfunction and neuronal connections begin to deteriorate."

He tilts his head. "Mm-hmm."

"Your neocortex might start to have memory lapses, and your parietal lobe can begin to have slower logical thought processes. Your altered temporal lobe might start causing you to slur your speech, and problems with your frontal lobe can affect your imagination and ability to focus. Even your prefrontal cortex can be impaired, resulting in poor judgement and, over time, hallucinations."

He rests his chin on his palm. "And not eating enough?"

His continued nonchalance bothers Amy even more. "Seriously? A lot of the same things are exacerbated, not to mention the chemical effects of lack of nutrition on the rest of your body. Altered hormone levels affect every part of the brain in this instance as well."

She stops speaking and looks at the wistful, contented look on his face. "What the hell, Sheldon?"

He brushes his fingertips across the back of her hand, deftly avoiding her IV line and setting all of her nerve endings on alert. "I've been waiting to hear you lecture me about that ever since you left. I hope you have some diagrams, charts, and schematics at home with which to better illustrate your points."

She stares at him with her mouth open until he reaches up and closes it for her. He never ceases to confound her sometimes. She's not sure what shocks her the most, his gentle touch of her hand in a public hospital or his audacious, untimely request for a Powerpoint presentation. It is equal parts sweet and insane, reminding her of how much she has missed him.

With an affectionate tone, Sheldon continues, "Once we get home and you're feeling better, perhaps you can email me the appropriate citations. While you're at it, you could also stand to elaborate on the specific alterations to hormone levels and the affects of such on each area of the brain."

Her mouth is falling open once again, but there's no time for another 'What the hell?' before an X-ray technician knocks on the door and comes in to wheel her away.

* * *

—-


	18. Chapter 18

—

* * *

CHAPTER 18

* * *

"Oh right, I forgot."

It's a few minutes after one o'clock at night, and Leonard is not amused by Sheldon's lack of consideration. "You forgot? We've been stuck out here in this waiting room for over an hour since you went back to see her, and we were here several hours before that. We are just as worried about her as you are."

"I highly doubt that."

His dismissal of their feelings is to be expected, but it irritates Leonard anyway. To his surprise, Sheldon actually seems to notice their discontent because he adds, "I apologize. I may have nodded off briefly."

Penny folds her arms across her chest and says, "Well, while you were napping, we were out here wondering about our friend's wellbeing. We're tired too, but there are calls that need to be made. Amy's mother, Bernadette, Howard, and Raj for starters. I didn't want to place those calls without being able to tell them at least something about her condition." Her tone softens by the time she finishes, "How is she, Sheldon?"

He takes a seat across from both of them before replying, "They have taken her to radiology for some precautionary X-rays. She hurt her wrist and ankle when she fell. The blood that we saw was from a wound to her head. She's not bleeding anymore, but she suffered a fairly severe concussion."

Penny's eyebrows turn up in the middle, and she covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God. But where has she been for the past five days? What happened? Is she going to be okay?"

Sharing in his wife's nervousness, Leonard wraps an arm around her shoulders and waits for an answer. The response is slow in coming.

Sheldon bites his lip and fidgets in his seat. "I was checking vacant houses between the trail and the location of an unusual robbery that I thought might be related to her disappearance. At the fifth house I went to, I found her. There was a man there too. I don't… I don't know why he was keeping her there. He got away." He runs his hands over his face, and Leonard can see him getting more upset with every word he speaks. "Beyond that, I don't know anything. I was told not to ask her about any of it until the police have had a chance to question her."

With his head bowed, Sheldon stares at his feet. This must be incredibly difficult for him, and while Leonard feels an intense need to know the truth, he knows that it must be so much worse for his buddy to be left in the dark. Penny stands and jerks her head. He follows her lead, and they each move to take new seats on either side of him. She leans her shoulder against Sheldon's, and Leonard pats his back a few times to offer some manly comfort.

Perhaps it is helping because he does raise his head. He looks back and forth between them with a look of hope on his face. "I did get to talk to Amy about other things. She sounded okay. I know that she was tired and hurting, but she didn't let it stop her from lecturing me about proper nutrition and the importance of getting adequate sleep."

That makes Leonard smile, and Penny has a hopeful little grin on her face as well. She gives Sheldon's shoulder a playful nudge and says, "That is so good to hear. Because sweetie, we all need that girl. Someone has got to keep you in line."

"Best of luck to her with that," Leonard teases.

After a few moments spent sitting in quiet solidarity, the seriousness of the situation sinks back in. To offer a distraction, Leonard suggests, "Hey, maybe you should listen to Amy's nutritional advice. We can take you down to the cafeteria to get something to eat while you're waiting for her to get back."

Sheldon shakes his head. "No. No, not yet." He crosses his arms over his belly. "I can't."

That's understandable at this point, and Leonard doesn't think he would be able to eat if he were in a similar position. His roommate hates lack of closure for even the most mundane and meaningless of situations. It's no surprise that his mind and stomach would be churning given the uncertainty of the past five days.

"Will the two of you take care of calling Amy's family and the rest of our friends? She should be back in her room soon, and I want to be there."

Penny raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure you aren't passing that little task off to avoid speaking to her mother?"

His shoulders twitch with a hint of a shudder. "Okay, that too. I don't understand how someone like Amy could have come from such an unpleasant woman. Although, I suppose my own lineage wouldn't have been expected to generate someone of such import as myself either."

Leonard feels oddly comforted by hearing Sheldon speak of his own preeminence. There is a certain familiarity to his arrogance, and it amuses him that it is unwavering even at a time like this.

"Her mother is not that bad," Penny says. "It's just that like most people, she can't quite relate to your special brand of human interaction. And you haven't exactly been speaking to her under ideal conditions recently."

"She hates me."

"Oh, she probably doesn't hate you." Leonard's voice wavers with doubt at his own words, but he figures Sheldon isn't likely to pick up on it. He clears his throat and continues, "She doesn't even know you. You've been avoiding both her and Amy's family events for years now."

"You're going to need to deal with her eventually," Penny agrees. A hint of a smirk grows on her face when she adds, "Don't forget. If you ever get the chance to give Amy that ring of yours, then you will also be gaining yourself a mother-in-law."

That earns both of them a wide-eyed look from Sheldon. Leonard thinks that the poor guy is going through enough already. It's no time to bring up a mother-in-law.

She pats his arm. "Honey, we will place those calls right after we see Amy, but you can't avoid her mom forever."

"Avoidance had been my plan, and it did serve me well for five years," Sheldon admits. He looks at her with complete sincerity. "It's too bad we can't all have a mother-in-law as great as you have in Beverly."

Leonard knows that it's unintentional, but Sheldon has just trumped her gentle teasing. If it were possible to laugh while thinking of his mother, he would do so at the look on his wife's face.

Not wanting to discuss this matter any further, however, he makes a suggestion. "Come on, guys. Let's all go wait for Amy."

* * *

—-

* * *

Penny never would have thought that she could miss Amy's everyday frumpy attire. However, as she watches her friend get wheeled into a hospital room, bruised, scratched, and clad in a thin hospital gown, she finds herself wishing that she had some wool and polyester to wrap her up in.

"Oh my God, Ames, we have been so worried about you!" She stands close to her friend's bed and continues to survey her from head to toe. Waving her hands, she adds, "I don't know where it's safe to hug you."

Amy gives a half-hearted looking smile, but pain is evident in her eyes. "I only really managed to mangle my extremities." She holds out her arms in invitation, which allows Penny the opportunity to move in and carefully squeeze her midsection.

She steps back to give Leonard a chance to do the same. A few feet away, she can see Sheldon shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his hands balled into loose fists. It's so obvious to her that he wants his own chance at an Amy hug but that he's too paralyzed by whatever goes through his unusual mind to actually do it.

"If you ever go hiking again, I'm not letting you go without me," Penny warns. She's not kidding about that, but she is joking when she tacks on, "In fact, I'm going to strap one of those toddler leashes to your backpack so that you won't be able to wander off, like the one Leonard uses when he takes Sheldon to Legoland."

"Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea," Sheldon interjects.

"Leashing a human being is never a great plan, but sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do," Leonard defends.

"Not the leash, the hiking. It's not safe." Sheldon folds his arms, no doubt trying to look authoritative. Penny thinks it makes him appear more like a stubborn child than anything else.

"Falling like that… it was terrifying. The unfortunate events that followed were even worse," Amy admits. "But I think simple logic is enough to tell us that the outdoors is not at fault for the choices that were made by a man. It's also not nature's fault that I had an inattentive moment." Her eyes dart to Sheldon and remain there. "I have no desire to go limping out on an adventure anytime soon. But that's for me to decide, not anyone else. Maybe someday I'll want to go again."

The stubborn strength in her voice pleases Penny. Her reference to terrifying 'unfortunate events', on the other hand, is quite troubling. It makes it all the more difficult to stifle the questions that jump to mind.

Sheldon seems to be having the same problem. It takes him several seconds longer than normal to be obstinate. "Well, I have been outdoors, and it is not impressive. Indoors we have television, computers, games, cleanliness, and, most of all, safety."

Amy shrugs. "There are more important things to life than that, Sheldon."

He gazes right back at her with an intense expression. Stretching his arm out, he gently taps the back of her hand with the tip of his index finger. "I know that."

Before Penny can figure out that weird little exchange, they are all interrupted by a soft knock on the open door. Deputy DiSalvo stands next to a familiar looking woman, though Penny can't recall her name.

"Good evening, Sheldon, Hofstadters," he greets each of them in turn and then glances at his watch. "Or maybe I should use a word other than evening since it's well past one in the morning."

He turns to Amy. "And you must be the woman of the week." He extends a hand to offer a handshake, but once he spots her wrapped wrist, he quickly switches to offering his left hand instead.

"I'm Deputy Jack DiSalvo and this is Deputy Susan Keene. We have been looking for you since you vanished on Wednesday, Dr. Fowler, and I can't tell you how happy we are to see you here safe. I'm sorry to have to interrupt your reunion with your friends, as well as any opportunity for a good night's sleep, but we have some important questions to ask you, and it's best that we do so as soon as possible."

Leonard gives Amy's fingertips a brief squeeze. Then he excuses himself by saying, "Amy, I'm going to go start leaving messages for everyone. Your mom, Bernadette, Howard, and Raj. They've all been really worried about you."

Amy thanks him with a soft nod and another weak half-smile. Then he turns to Penny and raises an eyebrow. "Penny? Maybe you should come with me…"

It's not the most subtle hint that she has ever heard. She looks from Amy to the deputies and then back again. Her friend looks very nervous, locking eyes with her. She has never heard Amy refer to anything as terrifying before, and she wonders if it would make her more comfortable to have a friend by her side while rehashing events for the police.

"Is it okay if I stay?" she asks, aiming the question at Amy more than anyone else.

It's DiSalvo who answers, though. "That's up to Dr. Fowler."

He turns his head to address Amy directly. "Sometimes it can be easier to talk about things when you have a familiar person around, and at other times it can make it more difficult to say everything that needs to be said. It depends on what makes you the most comfortable."

"Penny can stay," she answers, her voice not much above a whisper.

Leonard rubs the back of his neck. "Sheldon? Maybe _you_ should come with me…"

Never one to take even the most obvious of hints, he objects, "I don't want to go with you."

After a few seconds of tense silence, Amy says, "Sheldon, I will explain all of this to you, but I want to do it in my own way. The police are going to want a certain sequential telling of events, and that is going to be confusing."

"How can telling something in order be confusing? How else could one more efficiently convey a series of events?"

She sighs. "Please, just go with Leonard for now. I'm tired and I want to get this over with."

Leonard takes his elbow and starts backing him towards the door. It can't be easy for Amy to resist the pleading in her ex-boyfriend's puppy-dog eyes, and Penny is not surprised at all when her friend has to turn away from the sight of the door closing on Sheldon's sad, confused face.

* * *

—-

* * *

Rather than follow Leonard to the waiting room, Sheldon plops himself down onto a hardback molded chair that sits right outside the door to Amy's room. He's not going to go any farther away from her than he is forced to. They will have to get out the tasers again if they want him to move. As soon as he sits, his rear end starts sliding on the smooth plastic, causing him to become more and more hunched over as the seconds tick by.

A few feet away, Leonard has stopped walking towards the exit. Instead, he backs up and takes a seat in a similar looking chair. "I need to step outside and make these calls soon. Are you going to be okay here by yourself for a few minutes? Maybe you should come outside with me and get a little fresh air."

Shoving himself into an upright seated position again, Sheldon wonders how someone could have designed a seat so poorly. Surely no one's buttocks are shaped like this. He tries shifting his weight from one cheek to the other, but nothing halts the frustrating downward slide.

"I don't want fresh air." He wants to sound adamant, but he fears his words may have come out as more of a pout. It's not the only thing that he fears right now.

Sheldon crosses one leg over the other and then vice-versa. It doesn't help. His lower back continues to bend into the unnatural curve of the seat.

"And I don't want to sit anymore!" He jumps to his feet, knocking the stupid chair a few feet away with the force of his movement. Putting his head in his hands, he has to fight the temptation to actually pick it up and throw it.

After only a few seconds, he regrets his action. Not only was it undignified, but the annoyance of that chair had been giving his mind something to latch on to. Now he has nothing to distract him from thinking about Amy.

Leonard manages to stand without having an outburst. Perhaps he has a misshapen posterior. Taking a step forward, Leonard stands close enough that their arms brush together. "It's fine, buddy. We'll stand."

They remain there in silence until Sheldon whispers, "Why didn't she let me stay?"

His best friend scratches at the stubble on his chin and then bends over to pick up the fallen chair. "Um, I'm not sure. She said that she would tell you later. But I don't know, maybe she felt it would be wrong to have you there for this part because the two of you are broken up."

"It wouldn't be wrong for me to stay. What's wrong is kicking me out. She let Penny stay. Why would she do that?" He looks at Leonard, who shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn't seem willing to take another guess at Amy's motivations.

Sheldon glances to the closed door that keeps him from her. He knows that the person who holds answers is not the man standing next to him right now, but he can't stop himself from voicing one last question anyway. "Do you think it means there's something she doesn't want to tell me?"

* * *

—-

* * *

After the police and Penny have left, it takes much longer for Sheldon to appear in her room again than Amy would have expected. She spends the quiet minutes trying to figure out the best way to explain things to him, but as soon as she sees his face in the doorway, she loses her train of thought.

He looks so nervous and afraid. Her plan to explain things in a different way was all about trying to spare him from most of that, and she begins to wonder if her previous decision was the correct thing to have done after all. Her hope was to start the story by telling him that her captor never intended her any harm, and that while he was an eccentric weirdo who made stupid choices, he still helped her and did not hurt her.

If Sheldon had been here when she recounted things for the police, then he would have had to hear her talk about how she woke up tied to a bed, how her captor's words sounded so much like threats, how she didn't know what terrible fate might be in store, and how she feared that she would never see him again. It makes her shiver just to think about it. She doesn't want Sheldon to have to feel any of that experience the way that she did, not even for the few minutes that it would take for her to tell the tale.

Standing a few feet away, he is the first to speak. "I talked to Penny. She said that I should insist you tell me things exactly the way that you told them to the police, and that not doing so might tell me what happened, but it wouldn't tell me what it was like for you." He tilts his head with puzzlement. "I don't know what she's talking about."

Amy has the bed tilted up so that she is in a reclined seating position, and she stares at her knees, unsure of the right thing to do. She glances up, and once she sees the bright blue of his concerned eyes, she can't look away again.

"Amy, I am not a child. I'm a grown man. Maybe others don't see me that way, but you should. Please don't coddle me."

He's right, of course, though there is something peculiar about hearing him openly admit to adulthood. She awkwardly scoots her lower body over on the narrow mattress and pats the newly vacant space in invitation. He does not hesitate to take her up on it.

His hip feels warm where it presses up against hers, and his body is twisted to allow him to face her. Some annoying part of her brain reminds her that he is no longer her boyfriend, that they are broken up and she should not enjoy having him near her too much. She stuffs that thought aside and allows herself the luxury of briefly brushing his hand with the tips of her fingers.

He reciprocates the gesture by sliding his entire palm underneath hers, and he gives no indication that he intends to let go. She isn't sure what to make of his frequent, eager touches to her hand. It seems so unlike the man who used to insist that he was not a fan of that kind of thing. Rather than question it, she decides to enjoy the comfort that he is offering while she still has the chance.

"I'm sorry, Sheldon. I shouldn't have asked you to leave. My intention was to make this easier, but I can see that I've only made things worse."

"It's okay. I've been known to make things worse on occasion myself, believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it."

It's a relief to hear his easy forgiveness and a bit of a surprise that he did so with such a degree of humility. She sighs and starts to explain, "I just want to preface this by saying that I spent a long time with a very wrong impression of what was going on. When I tell what happened from the beginning, it sounds bad. Very bad. It will be impossible for you not to make the same assumptions that I did. Still, what Penny said is correct. If you truly want to understand how it was for me, then I can't sugercoat the situation by starting at the end."

He gives her palm a little squeeze, somehow still managing to avoid irritating her IV line. "I do want to understand. What's the first thing you remember?" he prompts.

She pauses and tries to think of how to begin. There's no way to make her first memories of events sound anything other than terrifying. But that is precisely the truth of how it felt. Terrifying. She grasps his hand tighter and begins to tell him everything.

* * *

—

Note: Thanks to everyone for reading, and thanks again to QBMaja for all of her helpful advice on this story.


	19. Chapter 19

—

* * *

CHAPTER 19

* * *

Sheldon emerges from the mens' public restroom and seats himself out in the main waiting area. It's too early in the morning for most visitors to come by, but thankfully Penny was able to drag herself out of bed to bring a change of clothes for both him and Amy. He's quite grateful because he doubts that she could have gotten more than four hours of sleep last night, not that he and Amy had fared any better.

Getting ready in the mens' room had been no easy task. The little bit of water that he managed to splash on himself was far from the thorough self-cleaning ritual that he would have preferred, and dressing himself in the tiny privacy of the stall resulted in many banged elbows. Quite frankly, attempting to go through any kind of morning ablutions in such an unsanitary location has left him feeling more filthy than he had when he started. At least Penny had also remembered to bring in his emergency Purell from the glove compartment of Amy's car.

As her official medical contact person, he was allowed to stay with Amy all night. She had tried to convince him to go home and rest, saying that he would sleep better at his apartment and that she could see him the next day. It was just like her to think of his wellbeing at a time like this, but even so, that was never going to happen. After a brief debate, Sheldon had emerged victorious. It was only because she had started snoring in the middle of the discussion, but he counts it as a victory nonetheless.

The chair in her room did not turn out to be a very comfortable place to have spent the night. He was pleased to be able to make use of Amy's bed to rest his head, but this morning his upper back aches from having been hunched over for several hours. It turned out to be worth the discomfort, though, because having slept with his head by her hip, he awoke this morning to the pleasant sensation of Amy unconsciously sifting her fingers through his hair while she slept.

The few other occupants of the waiting room don't appear to be paying any attention to him, but he steps into the empty hallway to ensure maximum privacy anyway. As soon as his phone displays a time of 8:00 AM, Sheldon enters the now familiar digits to reach Deputy DiSalvo. His morning shift should be starting right this very second.

"Good morning, Sheldon," the deputy sighs in greeting.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Because ever since I started this case, when I have a morning shift and my phone rings at exactly 8:00 AM, it's always you."

"I'm glad that you appreciate my punctuality, but I'm not calling simply out of habit. I want to know what your plan is to track down the man who held Amy captive."

There's a long, annoying pause before DiSalvo responds, "Did she not explain the situation to you?"

"Of course she did."

He can hear DiSalvo swallowing what is presumably some of his first coffee of the day before he answers, "Okay, then you know that the man she was with was attempting to help her. Amy does not wish to press charges, and as far as I can tell, that is a perfectly reasonable decision."

As far as Sheldon is concerned, there is nothing reasonable about any of this. "No. What that man did is _not_ okay. She was injured and scared and he had no right to keep her like that, away from all of the people who love her."

"Look, this world is full of some... unusual souls. In fact, I've met more than one on this very case. Anyway, I'm not saying that he made the best choices, but the story he told Amy does check out. The doctors I spoke to last night said that the treatment she had received was appropriate to her condition. She was not harmed by him in any way, and he did, in fact, do a great deal to help her."

Sheldon rubs his forehead, trying to think of how to make the deputy understand. "She thought he was going to hurt her. He threatened her."

"I know that's what she believed at the time. It sounds like she went through quite a terrible ordeal. The thing is, those fears were not fully grounded in reality. Amy told me herself that an injury to the brain like that can make a lot of things confusing and that her memory problems and long bouts of sleep are not unusual right after a concussion."

That's still not good enough for him. He remembers Amy's small, shaking body and her hoarse voice when she recited the events of her captivity to him last night. He wants some kind of consequences for the man whose stupid decisions put his girlfriend through so much anguish.

"How can it possibly be legal to break into an empty house, hold a terrified, injured woman there, steal from a medical clinic, and even go so far as to tie the captured woman to a bed?"

"Well, obviously it isn't. But the law is more complicated than that. You see, intent and outcome both matter a great deal. Even for something as serious as a person being killed, if the perpetrator's intent was self defense, then there is no violation of the law. As to outcome, reckless driving is a crime that goes unnoticed more often than not, but when it results in an accidental death, it can also rise to the level of manslaughter. In this case, the man's intentions were good, and Amy is doing very well. She is certainly faring far better than she would have without his help."

When he hears the word 'help,' Sheldon scoffs. Calling for emergency services would've been a much more appropriate way to help.

DiSalvo continues, "Think about it. Even if we managed to find this man and put him on trial, there is no way that a jury would convict him. Acting to help save a person's life gives a man a lot of leeway. And quite honestly, I don't think you ought to champion the idea of arresting well-intentioned, eccentric men."

Though it may be the truth, he hates to admit to himself that the man's actions may have helped save Amy's life. And while there's no doubt that her health is the only thing that matters out of all of this, a grunt is the most acknowledgement that he is willing to give the deputy's words.

"Sheldon, I know that this is difficult, and I can understand how angry you feel on Amy's behalf. But you're going to have to try to let it go. Some kind of crusade of misplaced vengeance is not what she needs from you. Be thankful that the woman you love is okay, and do your best to be there for her while she heals."

He stews for a few seconds longer, trying to calm his emotions. Eventually, he mutters, "Fine. But if that man ever stumbles into our lives again in any way, I am going to show no mercy with my Klingon bat'leth."

* * *

—

* * *

"Thank you for helping me with this. I know it's a little awkward."

Amy sounds embarrassed by the fact that she has asked for some help getting dressed this morning. Penny doesn't mind helping in any way that she can, so she smiles and gives a quick squeeze of reassurance to her friend's slumped shoulders. "Oh, sweetie, everything with you has always been a little awkward. That's just the way our friendship rolls."

With a soft whisper, Amy confesses, "The nurse offered some assistance. I couldn't take her up on it, though. I'm fully aware that no one hurt me, but I can't quite shake off the lingering feelings of violation, you know?"

Penny really doesn't know, but it's not too difficult to imagine. "That's totally understandable. If I had just been through what you experienced, I wouldn't want a stranger to help me get dressed either."

For the first time since her return, Penny sees her friend succeed in giving a tiny smile. The sight is enough to make her lean in for another hug. "We are all so happy to have you back, Ames."

Eventually she releases her hold and moves to swipe a bit of moisture out of the corner of her right eye. That girl has been through enough emotional stuff of late, and she would rather try to shift the two of them to some lighter discussions. She takes a seat in the chair near Amy's bed.

At Penny's feet are two plastic shopping bags. She clears her throat and says, "Okay, let's talk fashion. I have injured a limb or two in my day, so I stopped by your place this morning, rummaged through your closet, and put together this little ensemble to show you what I think will work best."

"When did you have time to do that?"

Penny shrugs, feeling oddly shy about her own kind gesture. "I didn't sleep much last night. It's okay. I've been up all night for far less noble reasons. But anyway..." She reaches into the first bag and retrieves a skirt and some low cut socks to set on the edge of Amy's bed. "First of all, think easy and comfortable. Your usual skirts should be simple enough to get on, but trying to wiggle into tights would put you into a world of hurt."

Peering into the top of the bag, Penny spots the next order of business. "Now, you don't strike me as the kind of girl who's willing to go freeboobing, and with that sprained wrist you're not going to be able to latch a regular bra, so overhead stretchy sports bras are where it's at." She pretends to shoot it at her friend like an oversized rubber band, and the playful gesture earns her Amy's second smile of the day. It seems to come much easier than her earlier attempt.

Digging a bit deeper into the bag, Penny's fingers brush up against soft cotton. "Ah yes. So I know you usually enjoy uncomfortable button-down shirts, but buttons are not your friends at this time." She hands the shirt over to her and then nudges the second bag at her feet. "You only had like one comfortable pullover shirt in your entire wardrobe, so I've brought you several of mine to take with you as well."

Amy runs her fingers over the soft material of the one in her hand. "That's very kind of you. All of this."

"It's my pleasure. I've always kind of wanted the chance to play dress-up with you. But you know what? Even though I had the chance to do that here, I found I wanted to bring you as much of your normal stuff as possible. Weird, huh? Speaking of which, you just wouldn't be you without a cardigan or twenty, so I also packed you one of those to wear home today."

After Penny pulls the folded cardigan out and places it with the rest of the outfit, she notices one final piece of today's clothing puzzle hiding at the bottom of the bag. It makes her giggle when she shows it to Amy and sees her conservative friend's resultant facial expression.

"That's right. No woman's come-home-from-the-hospital outfit is complete without bright red, silky lace panties."

Amy manages to close her gaping mouth, but her cheeks are still flushed with embarrassment when she points out, "I thought you said our objective here was maximum comfort?"

"Oh honey, if Sheldon insists on being the one to drive you home and help you out, then trust me, you will be much more comfortable sporting this bit of sexiness over those other granny panties you had in your drawer."

Even better than a smile, this time Amy exhales a small snort of laughter. "First of all, Sheldon would never notice the difference between sexy underwear and granny panties. But more importantly, I don't think he's going to want to take me home. The caregiver clause in the Relationship Agreement was never his favorite, at least not when it was him taking care of me. Since he is no longer obligated by that, I don't see why he'd offer. Things are different now."

Penny cannot keep from rolling her eyes. "Did he not just spend the whole night here with you like a devoted puppy?"

"I suppose that's one way to put it. Yes, he did stay with me. He's a good friend—the best of friends, and I don't doubt that he missed me while I was away."

It's Penny's turn to snort with incredulity. "Honey, to say that he missed you is a huge understatement. When I got here today, I had to physically drag that man out of your room to make him leave long enough to get dressed. Maybe he's not bound by that silly contract anymore, but he's still plenty bound to you without it. You're naive to think otherwise."

Amy continues to look a bit uncertain, so she adds, "Look, I know that for some reason you have been trying to force yourself into a life of loneliness and misery without him, but—"

"You don't understand. It's complicated."

"You're right. I really, really don't. But I can tell you the simple things that I do understand. That ridiculous, impossible man loves you, and he is miserable when you're gone. You think he's difficult on a normal day? You should've seen him since you left. Trust me, he is going to try to stick to you like glue."

With a skeptical expression, Amy shakes her head. "I don't think that's going to happen, not after the way I ended things and ran off. And even if he were to offer his help, I'm not so sure that it would be a good idea to take him up on it."

Penny sighs and walks over next to the bed. She reaches out and tucks an errant piece of dark hair behind her stubborn friend's ear. "Amy, my bestie, I think if he looks at you with big, pleading eyes and insists on following you home, you might just have to keep him."

* * *

—-

* * *

Sheldon is finding it difficult not to fidget while under the watchful glare of Amy's mother. He is terrible at reading people, but this woman seems to emanate unmistakable disapproval every time she is in the same room with him. The nurse is reading Amy's discharge instructions, and he uses the reprieve to prepare for the upcoming battle. Her mother is unlikely to yield without a protest. Penny sits next to the grumpy woman, and he hopes that he will at least have her in his corner when the time comes.

The nurse rattles off the instructions with practiced ease. "With any kind of traumatic brain injury, including a concussion, it will be normal for you to have some lingering issues with your memory as well as an ongoing need for more sleep than usual. If any of that worsens, if you notice any increase in pain, or if you lose consciousness at any point, then you will need to seek medical assistance right away."

"Okay," says Amy.

"You'll want to follow up with orthopedics in about six weeks. Your wrist sprain is mild and you should notice a lot of improvement in just a week or two. The ankle injury is considerably more severe, but by the time you hit six weeks, it should be quite well-healed. In the meantime, they've got you in this walking boot. As the name implies, you'll be able to walk with it on, and it's easier than any kind of cast because you can take it off when you need to bathe."

The black boot on Amy's left foot looks bulky on her short leg. It should provide good support, but it reminds Sheldon of something a hockey goalie might wear.

After handing over a folder full of paperwork, the nurse continues, "I know you've been refusing any kind of strong painkillers, but there's a prescription in here with your discharge papers in case you change your mind. We still strongly recommend that you let us give you something for the car ride home. It's a lot of jostling movement, and any bumps in the road will leave your head in a great deal of pain."

Amy licks her lips. "I'm still considering it."

"Good. Now, the combination of your head injury with these sprained limbs means that you're going to need some help for at least the first week that you're home, both to keep an eye out for worsening symptoms and to keep you safe when you move around. You'll be able to walk, but you should expect a lot of dizziness for a while yet. The risk of falling and hitting your head again is substantial. So, do you have someone who will be living with you?"

Sheldon recognizes his cue and dives on in. "Yes, she does. I'll be staying with her."

Both Amy and her mother look at him with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. Her mother is the first to shake herself out of it. She sputters, "Oh, I don't think so. Amy, that would be completely inappropriate."

"Nothing could be more appropriate," he defends, trying to project the utmost confidence.

"I'm talking to Amy, not you," she shoots back. With a softer voice she addresses her daughter, "I am perfectly able to take care of you, dear. This man… it would be positively indecent to take up residence with someone who you are not married to."

"With someone to whom you are not married," Sheldon interjects to correct her grammar. Usually he at least tries to hold back the urge to do that, but not with Ms. Fowler, not right now. For some reason, it only seems to make her more annoyed.

"Especially not this man! After that rude Skype call years ago, I was happy not to set eyes on him again. I never suspected that he was still in the picture. Amy, a proper lady should stay away from a man who has not bought the cow after five years of getting the milk for free!"

This time it's Penny who looks on with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Amy remains quiet, and he isn't sure what she might be thinking.

While Sheldon finds most euphemisms baffling, this one was quite common amongst the bible-thumping townsfolk while he was growing up, so he actually knows what her mother is referring to. He figures that this is probably not the best time to bring up the fact that her mother has everything all wrong, that there has been no fornication as of yet, but that he is, in fact, working on both the buying of the cow as well as the acquisition of said milk.

Instead he tries to take a more mature approach. "Amy is a grown woman. She can decide this for herself."

"Um, I'm just going to step out to check on another patient," the nurse says. She looks at Amy as she backs away and adds, "I feel like maybe this is a good time to point out that it is possible to hire a home health aid to stay with you for the next week or so. Um, just in case that option sounds the most appealing."

She heads out the door, and Penny speaks up with an offer of her own. "Honey, Bernadette and I can also take turns being there for you."

Amy looks from Penny to her mother and then finally fixes her gaze on Sheldon. He tries to plead with his eyes, but he's not sure that such a thing is very effective. She doesn't look away, so he hopes that maybe it's working.

After a few seconds, her mother sighs and takes Amy's hand, which is enough to pull her attention away from him. "You are my one and only child. I love you and want what's best for you. More than anything else, I want you to be happy. Is this man what you want?"

Before he can point out that she should say 'the one' in place of 'what' because he is a person, not a thing, he hears Amy's soft reply.

"Please use his name. He's Sheldon, not 'this man'. I love you too, Mom, but yes, I want him to be the one to take me home."

That's a relief to hear. He was only 99.9% sure that Amy would pick him.

After a brief, uncomfortable silence, her mother concedes, "Very well." Then Ms. Fowler turns to look at him with narrowed eyes. "Sheldon, you better take good care of my daughter—better care then you've ever taken with anything before."

'Anyone' his mind autocorrects. It's close, but he's able to stifle the impulse to voice that, and his response is still instantaneous. "I will."

As much as it pains him to admit to any kind of wrongdoing, he knows that he must do it for Amy's sake. Penny and Leonard were right when they said he would have to learn to get along with this woman. The fact that the two of them are currently at odds is at least a tiny bit his own fault.

He clears his throat so that he won't choke on his next words. "I apologize for the fact that my existence in your daughter's life has come as such a surprise to you. She has invited me to numerous family occasions over the years, and I should not have avoided getting to know her family. When it comes to that, I have been inappropriate."

Now everyone is staring at him. Ms. Fowler opens and closes her mouth a few times before she manages to say, "I see. Well, perhaps that can start to change."

Sheldon is running out of benevolent sentiments to share with her, but he forces himself to offer one last thing. "If you get the chance, stop by to visit Amy this week. You'll be able to see for yourself that she is in good hands."

"I'll be sure to do that," she says, and for the first time, he doesn't feel like she is about to reach out and slap him.

She bends at the waist to place a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "I will be over in a day or two. There's a fantastic knit sweater pattern that I have been wanting to share with you, and I'll bring you my Bob Ross DVDs. Nothing helps you get well faster than some vintage PBS television content."

Amy smiles and gives her a little half-hug with her uninjured arm. "Thanks, Mom."

After her mother retreats from the room, Sheldon isn't quite sure what to say. Penny doesn't say anything, but she is looking back and forth between the two of them like a spectator at a tennis match.

Amy glances down at her knees and is the first to speak. "Sheldon, thank you for making it easy for me to turn down a non-stop week with my mom, but I really can't ask you to do this."

He wonders just how hard she must've hit her head. She's never this daft.

"You didn't ask. I offered."

"Yes, well, if you were offering because you wanted to spare me from too many days in close quarters with my mother, then I understand. But she's not that bad in small doses, and if Penny and Bernadette alternate days with her, it'll be fine. I mean, what I'm saying is… I hope you understand that with the Relationship Agreement voided, you are not obliged to follow through on your offer in any way."

He tilts his head at her, but the new angle doesn't help her words make any more sense. "I didn't make that offer out of obligation or because of your mother."

It seems like his intentions should be obvious to her, but he doesn't get a chance to elaborate on the nature of the situation before the nurse peeks her head back in. "Are we all good here?"

Sheldon nods while Amy voices a soft, "Yes."

"I think the smoke has cleared, and a temporary cease-fire is in effect," Penny adds.

The nurse chuckles and steps the rest of the way into the room. "I'm glad to hear it. Now Amy, this is your last chance to accept a dose of painkillers. A quick shot of narcotics will make your drive home into a comfortable little snooze."

She fiddles with a string that hangs off the end of her hospital blanket. "I don't know. Narcotics and I don't really get along too well."

"Wait a minute," Penny says, perking up and pointing her finger at him. "Sheldon, you are going to be driving Amy home in her own car?"

"Yes, of course." He turns to Amy and starts to explain, "I've been driving it while you were gone. I needed a way to get out here on my own."

She gives him a small smile and says, "That's fine."

"That's fine?" Penny squeaks. "Amy, I know you taught him how to drive, but maybe you bumped your head so hard that you've forgotten what it's like to ride with him. Allow me to remind you. Being a passenger while Sheldon is operating a stick shift is a lot like that time we all tried out the mechanical bull on girls' night."

He's not quite sure what she's getting at, but she seems intent on trying to convince Amy of something.

"Sweetie, before you let him drive you home, please take the drugs that the nurse is offering you. My God, take all of the drugs that she is willing to give you."

* * *

—


	20. Chapter 20

—

* * *

CHAPTER 20

* * *

After living in a building with a nonfunctional elevator for so many years, Sheldon is accustomed to climbing a lot of stairs. As he guides Amy back to her apartment, he finds himself grateful for the simple luxury of her building's well-maintained infrastructure.

The drive home was quite peaceable, and in contradiction to Penny's dire warnings, he didn't have any difficulty operating the clutch this time. With Amy dozing in the passenger seat, he wanted to avoid jostling her as much as possible. Fortunately, his mind and body were capable of acting more fluidly without the stress of her absence weighing him down.

They exit the elevator, and Amy takes slow steps down the hallway, leaning most of her weight into his side. Whether it is due to dizziness, sleepiness, or drug-induced intoxication, Sheldon isn't sure. He has his arm wrapped firmly around her midsection and has no intention of complaining about the contact. The warm press of her body against his is comforting, and after feeling helpless for so many days, the pride he feels at finally being able to do something for her is very welcome.

While they walk, she keeps up some kind of mumbling commentary about birds. Sheldon isn't entirely following along, but she seems content enough, and he's happy just to hear her voice. Her head lolls against his right shoulder while she holds on to his waist for balance. Every once in a while her uninjured hand slides down and accidentally grabs hold of his left buttock. He squeaks in a rather unmanly fashion every time she does it.

Once they make their way inside her apartment, he leads her over to the couch to sit. She is so bonelessly floppy from the drugs that it looks a lot like she's being poured into the seat. The weight of her head rests against the back of the sofa, and he lifts her injured ankle onto the coffee table to prop it up with a pillow. It's only eleven o'clock in the morning, but after so little sleep last night, he's already exhausted. He takes a seat next to her and mirrors her pose, leaning his head against the back couch cushion.

She slowly rotates her head to face him, and as she does so, he notices a gigantic smile growing on her face. "I'm gonna miss you," she says.

Sheldon lifts his head in alarm. "What? Are you planning to go somewhere?" She can't do that. He just got her back. And why does the idea make her so happy?

"No. You are."

That makes no sense. He squints at her grinning face and says, "I'm right here. Where is it that you think I'm going to go?"

"You're here now, but once I'm back to normal, I'm not gonna have dreamy Sheldon anymore. I really like having dreamy Sheldon around."

"Dreamy Sheldon?" Is she high?

"Mmm-hm. That's you. You're so warm an' snuggly, and you're gonna be here while I sleep. It's weird. Do you like Strawberry Quik just like real Sheldon?"

Before he can follow her rapidly bouncing thoughts, much less formulate an answer, she continues to prattle on, "Oh wait, that's stupid. You're a ghost, or an application… abolition… apparition! Yeah. Like a filament of my 'magination. Dream people don't gotta drink anything."

If he had any doubts before, it has now become apparent that Amy is experiencing some side effects from her drug injection. Maybe this is what she meant when she said she doesn't do well with narcotics. Her poor grammar and slurred speech patterns are starting to make him twitch, as does the fact that every time she pronounces his name, it sounds like Shellin'.

"Um, I think you mean figment."

"I dunno what I was thinkin'. Phantom people don't drink stuff. That's crazy. But you know, I bet they do like waffles."

"What?"

It takes her a moment to stop giggling long enough to say, "Yeah, 'cause ghosts are always waffling between realms." She slaps his knee. "Get it?"

Sheldon gets it, he's just not so sure that she does. Placing his hand on her cheek, he tries to gently nudge her drifting attention and glassy eyes to him so that he can clue her in to what's happening to her.

"Amy, it looks like you are experiencing some side effects from the painkillers they gave you when you left the hospital. Opioids can make you sleepy, but they can also cause euphoria, mild hallucinations, and make things around you feel surreal. I'm not a figment of your imagination, though. I'm real. I don't think the half-life on most of those injectable narcotics is very long, so you should be yourself again soon."

She lifts her head, squints her eyes at him, and then pokes him in the chest a few times. "You do seem pretty solid to be a ghost, and you sound so much like real, sexy Sheldon when you talk all sciency. I wish you were really him, but he wouldn't be here right now."

He can't think of any reason that she would doubt him like this. It's not easy to follow her drug-induced logical leaps, though. "Why do you say that the real Sheldon wouldn't be here?"

" 'Cause Tuesday's a work day. He doesn't miss work."

In most instances, she would be correct, but these are decidedly special circumstances. Maybe in her current state she can't figure out the full extent of how different everything is right now. "Actually, I took the rest of this week plus next week off to stay home with you while you're getting better."

"See? Now I know you're not real." She sighs wistfully before starting to giggle again. "If this is drugs, sign me up. I don't wanna be myself again soon, 'cause then you'll disappear."

She sounds giddy, but her words are full of pessimism. It makes him sad, but there's nothing for it other than to offer more reassurances. "I'm not going to disappear. I'll still be right here when the drugs wear off."

"It's okay, Dream Sheldon, I'm used to bein' alone. I spent most of my life that way. Ooh, I know! I'm gonna get a cat!" Her shift from elation to pessimism and back again is so rapid that Sheldon feels like he's going to get whiplash.

The ramble continues, "If I'm gonna become a crazy old cat lady, I gotta get started on my cat collection. First one's gonna be a smart, beautiful cat that I wanna cuddle lots. And I'm gonna name her Shelly. Then I won't be lonely 'cause my apartment won't be empty when I get home everyday. And 'cause she's a cat, she'll remind me of you."

"How would a cat remind you of me?"

"She'll be so cute and lovable but always runnin' away 'cause cats don't really do affection on anyone else's terms. Aloof Shelly will feel like an old friend right away, y'know?"

He wishes he didn't know what she's talking about, but he does. "That… that sounds sad."

She's still smiling about it anyway. "Yeah. It's better than bein' alone forever, though."

"I told you. You're not going to be alone."

For a brief instant, she looks like his normal Amy while she thinks about something. She sounds very serious when she says, "And I won't be able to eat salad anymore."

"What? That's a bit of a non sequitur." That's putting it mildly. Her current thought processes continue to baffle him.

The grin is back, and she bats her shiny, pupil-constricted eyes at him. "Say non sequitur again."

"Um, non sequitur?"

She picks up a pillow with her good hand and starts fanning herself with it. "Your voice is so smart and goofy and hot. But that's not a non senator, er, non semaphore, you know what I mean." It looks like her thoughts are starting to wander off on her again because she absentmindedly drops the pillow.

"No, it's definitely a non sequitur, and I'm sure that I have no idea what you mean. What's wrong with salad?"

"Oh! Yeah, that's 'cause I eat it with cucumbers, and cats hate cucumbers. Freaks 'em out. Did you know that, Dream Sheldon?"

He is tired of trying to argue that he is not Dream Sheldon. She'll figure it out after the high wears off. Instead he just answers her odd question.

"No, I didn't know that. I did acquire a number of cats years ago, though, if you'll recall. And I can tell you right now that cats can't replace the most important people in your life. For some people, there are never enough cats."

She shrugs. "Well, what else am I s'posed to do then? When you're gone—"

"I'm not going anywhere without you. Amy, I think what you should do is take a nap. When you wake up, you'll feel better."

"I don't wanna wake up. I feel great!"

Her adamant declaration is happy enough, but her grin soon fades. She leans in close to him with an intent, almost frightened look on her face. Her warm breath tickles his sensitive ear, and he can feel it more than hear it when she whispers, "Dream Sheldon vanishes when I wake up, and sometimes there's a scary guy around instead."

Sheldon knows that Amy is far from being in her right mind, but this is an irresistible opportunity to ask something that has been nagging at him. "Did… did the scary guy ever hurt you?"

He thinks that she has been completely honest, but he can't help wondering if she has tried to spare him from anything unpleasant. She looks up at him with her unnaturally constricted pupils and shivers a little when she whispers, "No. But he did wash me and change my clothes. I didn't like that. I still don't."

Sheldon swallows hard. He doesn't like that either. With as much confidence as he can muster, he promises, "Well, that guy is gone for good. I'm here now, and I'm not scary at all."

Her mouth transforms into another intoxicated grin, and he's glad that she must be taking at least some comfort in his reassurances—not that she's likely to remember any of this anyway. "Dream Sheldon saves the day," she slurs.

"Something like that. Now come on, let's get you to bed."

The grin morphs into a smirk. "Oh sure, _now_ you're tryin' to get me into bed. You shoulda done that years ago. I don't think you mean that the right way here."

Emboldened by the fact that she's sure to forget everything, he declares, "I mean it quite a bit and in more ways than you think. When you're ready, I'll prove it."

It's the most forward thing that he has ever said to her, but Amy doesn't even seem to notice. Her mouth forms a gigantic 'O' while she yawns. Then she follows it up with an equally huge dose of irrationality. "I don't wanna go to sleep. I'm not tired."

She folds her arms over her chest and her lip pokes out in a pout. Even though she looks sad, her eyes are still shiny like they so often are when she laughs.

"You remind me of my nephew when I babysat him a couple of months ago. It's not good to be as unreasonably stubborn as a baby, Amy."

"They left you in charge of a baby? Really?"

"Yes. My mother took my sister to a holy rollers bingo and bake sale fundraiser at her church during my last visit. That's no place for us menfolk, so we stayed behind."

"How'd the babysitting go?"

Pleased to have a more normal conversation at last, Sheldon relaxes while he tells his story. "Not too bad. I started him on some basic experiments, Physics 101, if you will. He only seemed interested in gravity, though. No matter how many times we established that the Cheerios would, in fact, hit the ground when dropped from his highchair, he kept doing it over and over again. Repeatability is an important scientific principle, but it got to be a bit much."

"You're going to be such a great father someday, Sheldon."

This seems like the worst possible moment to delve into such a touchy subject. If he's going to talk with her about children, then he wants it to be at a time when she'll be capable of remembering the conversation. Still, he's going to speak to her honestly, whether she's drug-addled or not.

"That is yet to be determined. I would need you for that, so it's not up to me. Anyway, it's nap time."

He isn't all that surprised when her brain skips right over his careful response to the fatherhood thing. "I don't wanna sleep. It's morning."

He sighs. It sure feels like bedtime to him. "Very well. What is it that you want to do?"

"Take a shower. I feel yucky. I wouldn't let them help me at the hospital."

Sheldon wouldn't have let strangers help him with something like that either. "That's… I suppose we can do that. It will be a lot of movement around hard surfaces. But maybe it would be wise to take advantage of the painkillers while they're still in your system."

"Mmm, yeah. Take advantage, Dream Sheldon."

He scratches his head. "Um, okay. I'll just go run some water. I don't think you should try to stand for a shower. It's too slippery, so I'll run you a bath."

"Yup. It's definitely slippery."

Pleased that she's being reasonable on that front, he walks over to her bathroom and starts the bathwater running. There's no bath thermometer, of course, but he's got bigger problems than optimal temperature gauging. Having bathed Amy once before, he knows that the most important factor is to accumulate a critical mass of bubbles.

He rummages through her orderly cabinet and locates the bubble bath. The directions say to use a capful. Sheldon uses two. Thinking better of it, he adds a third. It's better to risk overflowing her tub with foam than to ogle her naked body when she is unable to agree to said ogling. The last time he did this for her she was quite shy about it, and he didn't see much of anything. He expects the same from her now. In any case, he's not going to be the one to violate her privacy, not ever, but certainly not after everything that's happened over the past week.

The sudsy water is rising fast, so Sheldon goes out to retrieve Amy. He freezes in an instant when he sees that she has gotten started without him. She has managed to remove the walking boot and her regular shoe, as well as her socks. Her skirt is in a ball on the floor next to her cardigan, and both her arms and head are currently tangled up in her pullover shirt, obscuring her entire face from his view.

She must hear him walk into the room because he hears her muffled voice call out, "I'm stuck."

He clears his throat. "I can see that." After rushing over and freeing her from the soft cotton, he notices her reach for her undergarments. So much for shyness.

"Amy, wait! We're—we're going to need to wash your hair in the sink, and I don't want you to get too cold."

That's a little bit true, but the much greater truth is that this behavior is so unlike her that he's not sure what he ought to do. He runs one hand through his hair and dries his sweaty palms on his pants. In the meantime, his words seem to have been enough to convince Amy to stop stripping.

She continues to smile her goofy grin at him while he takes one of her dining chairs and starts moving towards the bathroom. The chair takes a small chunk out of her drywall when he bumps one of its legs against the wall. It's difficult to navigate down the hallway while his eyes are fixed on Amy's form instead of the chair's.

In the bathroom, she is out of his view, freeing his eyes to notice the rest of his surroundings once again. The water in the tub is plenty deep, so he twists the tap to stop the flow. Anxious to get back to her, he still pauses for a moment to take a few deep breaths and to rearrange the drape of his pants. It doesn't help. There's no way to hide his… situation. That's okay. She's probably too far gone to notice, and even if she does become aware, well, she needs to know anyway.

It's not something he's used to dealing with in her presence all that often. As their relationship grew, this kind of thing did tend to pop up from time to time, but he found that carefully scripted limits to their physical contact helped. Those restrictions, in conjunction with a proper schedule of self-abuse before date nights and emergency Kolinahr, were usually enough to avoid any untimely awakenings of the Kraken.

Now, of course, things are different. He can't afford for her to keep misunderstanding everything, and there is no longer any utility in denial. From the moment he got her letters and began to understand the full scope of her misconceptions, he has been determined to set things right.

Returning to the living room, he finds her sitting on the couch where he left her. During his brief absence she has put the boot back on, and she's in the middle of singing some weird song about phantoms. The song is bizarre, but the boot is a good idea. There's so much Amy skin showing that he wouldn't even begin to know where to put his hands to pick her up and carry her.

He holds her good hand while she stands, and they do the same awkward, shuffling walk that they did to get up to her apartment. She leans her floppy body into his side again, and this time he can feel the heat of her semi-naked body soaking through both layers of his shirts. His arm is wrapped around her, and he hopes she won't notice how sweaty his hand is where it rests on her elbow to support her. As they move, she continues to sing her happy tune.

Without her poofy armor of wool and cotton, her midsection is bare, making her look so much smaller than she usually does. The red underwear she is wearing seems incongruous to her typical style. He would've expected something far more practical, and it makes him wonder—

His shoulder slams into the doorframe, and the resulting bolt of pain jars him from his wandering thoughts, reminding him that he probably shouldn't be staring at her like that. The bump is also enough to bring Amy's strange serenade to a halt.

With his guidance, she takes a seat in the chair and leans back so that he can wet her hair. He does so gingerly, taking care not to get her stitches soaked any more than necessary. The act of shampooing and rinsing her hair is enough of a distraction to keep him from looking at her chest too often, and with the way her upper body juts out due to her arched position, it isn't exactly easy to ignore. He's used to her form being buried in layers of clothing, and this new sight of the curves of her body is fascinating. He can't resist stealing a peek or two.

Also helping to distract him from being overly licentious is Amy's nonstop chatter. She jabbers about the chemical composition of the shampoo, how weird the word 'shampoo' sounds, and her running theory that a lot of politicians may in fact be alien replicants because they so often seem like they're just pretending to be real people. Her alien theory reminds him a bit of an old _Doctor Who_ episode that she watched with him last year, and it makes him feel better that her crazier moments are still grounded in something related to real life. Rather than try to keep up with her ever-shifting conversation, he nods at varying intervals. It seems to be enough to keep her satisfied.

"Let's sit you on the edge of the tub," he suggests once he finishes with her hair, interrupting her recitation of a good recipe for split-pea soup.

She's too zoned out to remember to strip off her remaining garments, but he figures that it's just as well. She can remove them once she's under cover of bubbles and not have to show him anything else that she wouldn't normally reveal.

Sheldon steadies her while she sits on the edge of the tub, and he removes the boot while she pulls off the wrist brace. After he helps her spin 180 degrees, he struggles to hold most of her weight while she slides the short distance into the water. With her floppy limbs and wobbly head, it's a lot like trying to maneuver a large sack of potatoes. The softness of her skin and the warmth of her body, however, are more than enough to remind him that she is very much a woman.

Kneeling next to the bathtub, Sheldon hovers over her movements and doesn't relax until he sees Amy's injured head resting safely against the side wall of the enclosure. It feels somewhat intrusive to stay and watch her, but he doesn't dare to leave her alone right now. In her current state, she might decide that she's a submarine and go diving, or she might decide she's a fish with gills that would allow her to breathe underwater. It's best not to chance it.

Once immersed in the safety of the bubbles, however, she behaves in a normal fashion, making use of the soap and running her hands over her own arms and legs. He enjoys the pleasant sight until Amy's smile turns to a frown and she starts wiggling and shimmying her body. He's not sure what's going on until she holds her soaked brassiere aloft like a trophy. She lets it drop to the floor with a wet plop and then goes through a slightly different series of gyrations to retrieve her lacy underwear. Victorious, she smiles at her success. It must be easier for her to move around with the buoyancy of the water.

His mind takes this moment to remind him that with her underthings removed, the woman he loves is now completely naked only an arms length away. Undressed, nude, bare, au naturel, it is difficult to think about much of anything else.

She runs her index finger through the bubbles and then dots his nose with foam. "Dream Sheldon usually comes in here with me."

That invitation fills his mind with the kind of visions that he is used to suppressing. Resolved to take their relationship down a new path, he resists his longstanding habit of turning to Kolinahr. His heart is already beating faster than normal, but it still manages to speed up even more in response to her words. Sadly, the blood flow doesn't seem to be reaching his brain. He can only manage to sputter out a short, stupid response that is unbefitting of his intellect.

"I… I don't think I'd fit."

She giggles. "Dream Sheldon always fits."

Sheldon gulps hard. He should stop this conversation, all of this really. She is not herself. He should help her get clean with detached efficiency and then bundle her up for sleep. But what he should do and what he wants to do are two very different things. He is accustomed to doing the right thing, the repressed thing, but set free, his long-denied libido seems to have a firm grip on his higher faculties. And isn't this conversation exactly the kind of thing that she has been wanting?

The curiosity is too great. He wants to know all of Amy's secrets, especially when it comes to a situation like this, so he leans over the lip of the tub, a few inches away from her face, and whispers, "What else does Dream Sheldon usually do?"

She raises an eyebrow and whispers back, "Everything."

As she speaks, she grabs a big wad of his shirt, including a chest hair or two, and pulls his face in for a kiss. The chest hair instantly gives way, and so does Sheldon. Her lips feel familiar, soft and inviting, and he cups her rosy cheek with the palm of his hand. Her wet fingers rub his chest through his shirt and then slide up to the back of his neck. He has missed her so much that he can't hold back a groan of carnal delight. She echoes the same sound right back between his lips.

Kissing her with an open mouth should seem unsanitary, but it doesn't, not at all. Instead, it simply feels natural. In a similar way, instinct compels him to barge forward with his tongue, and she gracefully sucks him right in. His hips press up against the side wall of the tub, a hopeless endeavor to try to reach her through layers of clothing and fiberglass.

For every action that he takes, Amy is right there with him, forging her way to a new frontier as well. While he explores her mouth, she slides her wet hand up underneath his shirts, caressing the skin of his chest directly. The sensation of her hand on his body is heightened with the barrier of his clothing pushed aside, and goosebumps rise on his skin when she runs her fingers through his sparse chest hair.

It makes him want to touch her, too. The curve of her shoulder is inviting, and Sheldon smooths his hand over it and down her arm under the water, stopping well short of her injured wrist.

When he slides his fingers back up her arm to her shoulder, Amy breaks the kiss. She stares into his eyes with the tip of her nose pressed to his. They share panting breaths while she pulls back her good hand from the tangle of his shirts and moves it to take a firm hold of his forearm instead. She guides his retreating hand back down into the foamy water to encounter the smooth surface of her naked belly.

Sheldon gulps hard, wishing that he had not used quite so much bubble bath. He would prefer to actually see his hand resting there on her skin rather than having to imagine it. They both continue to stare at each other, their movements frozen. After a moment or two, it is Amy who breaks the inertia, and she starts to nudge his hand northward.

He remembers her once bemoaning his inability to find second base. She would be so happy if she could see this now. Inches from the curve of her breast, he halts the motion.

If she could see this now? That's not right. None of this is right. Of course she's not seeing this now. She's not fully aware of her reality, and she probably isn't even going to remember this in a few hours. As much as it pains him to think about it, she doesn't even believe that she's his girlfriend at this point. And regardless, whether they are broken up or happily together, he can't continue to do this while she's in this state, while she can't decide anything for herself at all. There is no doubt in his mind that she would want this, but that's not good enough.

He closes his eyes and pulls his hand away. "I'm sorry, Amy. I—I can't."

His inner grammatical nit and points further south remind him that he most certainly can, he just ought not to do so. He corrects himself. "Well, I can, I just—I just shouldn't. With the drugs in your system, you're not yourself right now."

It's difficult to know how to handle this. He knows from his conversation with Leonard and Amy's subsequent letters that she has often felt rejected. With him pulling away now, he fears that she will feel that way once again, and that's so incredibly far from the truth that it hurts. But what choice does he have?

A chill begins to set into his damp skin, making him shiver, but when he opens his eyes and chances a look at Amy again, she remains pink-tinged, flushed from the warmth of her bath. And she is still smiling at him.

"That's okay. I get it. In fact, 'I can't' is exactly what the real Sheldon would say." She tilts her head and adds, "Hey, maybe you _are_ the real Sheldon."

He nods. "Yes, I am." Feeling insecure, he continues, "But it sounds like Dream Sheldon might be preferable sometimes."

Her grin widens, and she shakes her head. "No. Never. That's not possible. No one is ever better than my real Sheldon."

* * *

—

Note: I know this chapter is a little peculiar, as is the rest of the story. Whether you're liking it or hating it, I'm always happy to hear what you think.


	21. Chapter 21

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* * *

CHAPTER 21

* * *

Scary dream images dart into the shadows of her mind when Amy jerks awake. She takes a deep, relieved breath as soon as she comes to recognize the familiarity of her surroundings. The lavender walls, wicker laundry basket, and old-fashioned quilt remind her that she is no longer in the hospital, and certainly no longer in the confines of the bedroom in that abandoned home.

Plenty of light pours in through the gaps at the edges of the curtains in her window, and a glance to the digital clock on her bedside table shows a time of 5:43 PM. She can hear sounds coming from her kitchen—the clink of glass, the rattle of silverware and plates, and the buzzing whir of her electric can opener. The welcome smell of baking bread wafts her way, making her stomach rumble with anticipation. Sheldon must be making dinner.

Amy remembers his insistence on being the one to take her home. She remains uncertain about whether it's a good idea to allow herself to be so close to him now that they're broken up, but after everything that she has been through, she could not deny herself the opportunity to spend some time in his presence. Thoughts and dreams of Sheldon were her greatest source of comfort during her frightening ordeal, and she has wanted nothing more than the simple joy of waking up to find him nearby instead of that peculiar stranger.

She is tucked tightly into her bedding like a mummy, and she has to wiggle her good arm and loosen the covers before she can reach out for her glasses. With improved vision, she begins the arduous process of trying to sit up. Coordinating her good limbs is tricky, and her head gives her a few jolts of pain to remind her to take it slow, but in time she manages to scoot herself up to lean against her headboard. Unfortunately, the sliding movement has pulled loose the towel that she is wearing, and Amy looks down to the sight of her bare chest. She yanks up the towel along with the comforter and wonders how she ended up napping the afternoon away wrapped in nothing more than a towel.

Before she has a chance to puzzle it out, she hears a familiar series of knocks on her bedroom door. "Amy, Amy, Amy?"

She tucks the soft terrycloth back around her body, clears her throat, and answers, "Um, what is it, Sheldon?"

His voice sounds muffled through the solid wood of her door. "May I come in?"

Amy careens her head from her left to her right and spots a nightgown and underwear atop the end table on the far side of the bed. It will be difficult, time consuming, and sure to make her injuries throb, but she can probably get those on by herself. Still, she needs to answer him right now. "I… I'm not dressed."

He's quiet for a few seconds and then offers, "I can help you. It would be easier for you, if you'll let me."

This offer is not out of line. She knows how helpless these injuries have left her and has known all along that anyone who volunteered to help might be faced with some rather delicate tasks. Agreeing to let Sheldon take care of her was a decision made in a moment of great weakness, but hearing his beloved voice right now, she can't even begin to make herself regret it. While she's uncertain about the best way to handle the current situation, she knows that she's going to have to face him one way or another and that she can't hide away forever. Besides, her mind is also swirling with questions about this morning and her unusual napping attire.

"Okay, come in," she says, giving in to the inevitable.

He enters the room and only looks at her briefly before his eyes flit away to the clothes nearby. She watches him shift his weight from foot to foot, and scratch at the back of his neck. "Dinner is almost ready. The bread is just finishing up, and the stew is staying warm on the stove. The nurse this morning said that you should walk with someone by your side during these early days while you are still woozy and unsteady on your feet."

His eyes meet hers again before he finishes, "But maybe we should get you dressed first."

She looks at his flushed face and sees him gulp. His awkwardness is familiar, but there is something different about the way that he is looking at her that she can't quite put her finger on. Maybe it has something to do with the earlier part of the day. Speaking of which, she might as well ask the natural question.

"Why am I asleep in bed wearing a towel?"

He takes a few steps and sits gingerly on the end of the bed near her feet. "I'm not sure what you remember about your trip home this morning."

Amy remembers Sheldon's bold offer of assistance and his subsequent deft handling of her mother's protestations. Before that, Penny had helped her get ready to leave. The last thing she remembers clearly is both the nurse and Penny convincing her to accept the offer of a shot of painkillers for the hour-plus commute home. Uh-oh.

She sighs. "The nurse gave me some narcotics. I don't remember the drive home, and things are kind of hazy after that."

Sheldon squirms. "Well, you were correct when you said that you don't handle narcotics very well. You slept in the car and seemed comfortable when we walked from the car to here, but you were a little out of sorts."

Try as she might, Amy can't bring it to mind. All she can remember are some of the fuzzy recollections of the dreams from her nap this afternoon. There were the pleasant, familiar dreams of Sheldon taking care of her, bathing her, and kissing her sweetly. Then there were the more nightmarish visions from just before she awoke.

"What happened?"

"The good news is that you didn't seem to be in any pain. The less good news is that you didn't seem fully aware of what was going on around you."

She nods, and he continues, "I suggested that you take a nap, but you insisted you weren't sleepy. When you expressed a desire for a bath, I thought it seemed prudent to take care of that while you were comfortable from the drugs."

"Oh," she says, unable to come up with a more suitable response. His recitation of the morning's events is starting to make her wonder whether pieces of her dreams might have any basis in reality.

"We washed your hair in the sink, and then you had a bubble bath. It was a lot like the time I cared for you when you had the flu," he explains.

She remembers the incident when she had been sick a few years ago. She'd been able to slip into the bath while Sheldon politely averted his gaze. Of course, she'd been able to undress and move by herself at that time. Thinking back to this morning, she has a vague recollection of being immersed in bubbles and then stripping off her underwear. Perhaps Sheldon once again found a way to bathe her while still respecting her privacy.

"I'm sorry I asked you do that," she says.

"What? No, you don't need to apologize. It was smart to want to do it then," he insists. Despite the strength of his words, when he continues, he still sounds uncomfortable. "I wrapped you in a towel and carried you out here after you were done. We put your wrist brace and boot back on. Since you weren't in any pain, I stepped out so that you could try to dress yourself, but…"

Amy tilts her head at him. "But what?"

He smiles and pokes her good foot through the layers of bedding. "You were apparently flabbergasted by your garments. When I came in to check on you after a few minutes, you had one leg through the arm of your nightgown, and you were wearing your underwear on your head."

Heat rushes to her cheeks, and unfortunately, she can almost remember what he's talking about. Sheldon continues, "While you were attempting to dress yourself, you were loudly belting out a song. Again. It's not a tune I'm familiar with, but I thought it seemed to be a fine enough rendition. The old lady who lives in the next apartment over did not agree."

"I did not…" she whispers.

Sheldon's grin widens as he nods. "You did."

Amy stares at him, aghast at her behavior. He reassures her, "It's okay. I explained that you were a bit out of it due to heavy narcotic usage, but that you would be sober again soon. She didn't have much to say after that, so I suppose she must have some degree of sympathy."

Burying her face in her hands, she groans. "I'm so sorry, Sheldon. You should never have had to deal with all of this, especially now."

The bed jiggles, and she soon feels him sitting near her hip. When she feels him touch her arm, Amy pulls her hands away from her face.

"I wanted to be here. I still do," he says.

His earnest expression and the bright blue of his irises has an almost hypnotizing affect on her, but she still feels humiliated by her actions. It makes her wonder what else she might have done. This close to him, she feels an almost magnetic pull to his lips.

She jerks her head back at the sudden flood of recollection. "I kissed you, didn't I? You helped me into the bathwater, and I grabbed your shirt."

Sheldon's already pink cheeks darken even further. He glances away and bites his lip. "Something like that," he admits.

Amy opens and closes her mouth a few times, trying to find the right words. When she speaks, she can hear the frantic apology in her own voice. "This was a mistake. Help me find my phone and I can call my mother, or Penny and Bernadette."

He remains calm, despite her distress, and shakes his head. "Mistakes have been made, but that wasn't one of them."

"How can you say that? We aren't together anymore, but you are kind enough to agree to help me out, and what did I do? I threw myself at you like some pathetic fool."

She tries to look away, but he puts his hand on her cheek and gently redirects her focus. "I need to tell you something. You did initiate that kiss, but…"

He lets go of her face and tips his head down towards the floor. Embarrassment floods both his expression and his tone, and it looks like it's almost enough to match her own feelings on the subject.

He continues, "I'm the one who allowed that kiss to go too far. Tongues were involved. I'm to blame for initiating that. Well, the French are too, I suppose."

His admission causes Amy's heart to pound and her head to swirl with hopes and questions. Why would he have done that? What does it mean? Did he want to kiss her like that? He has been oddly affectionate since her return, staying with her in the hospital all night and touching her with atypical frequency. Is it possible that he does harbor some kind of sexual feelings for her and that he finally got lost in a haze of desire? If so, does he want to do it again?

When the shock dies down enough for her to regain control of her vocal chords, one question wins out over all of the others. "How—how was it?"

He meets her eyes again, and she can see vulnerability and innocence in those blue depths, but there are hints of some other emotion at work, something that she can't quite decipher.

"Overwhelming," he whispers, while glancing down at her lips. Then he swallows hard, licks his own tempting lips, and adds, "Wrong."

Oh. Of course. It's no longer difficult for her to figure out what emotion is at play in him. Clearly, Sheldon has regrets. She should have anticipated that because she knows all too well that physical intimacy of that sort is not what he wants with her. Even though she should have known better, her chest squeezes tight with disappointment.

She wishes that he wouldn't, but he must feel the need to explain himself. "I'm sorry, Amy. That has to be one of worst things that I have ever done in my life. I hope you can forgive me."

When he looks at her with sad eyes, she has to force herself not to cry. Something this obvious should not crush her. It's not his fault that he doesn't feel desire for her. He is still a tremendous friend and the very best man that she has ever known. Focusing on how thoughtful and kind he has been since her return, she tries to put some strength into her voice.

"It's okay, Sheldon. I understand. You've gone above and beyond anyone's expectations by being here for me. Thank you for taking care of me."

Amy is proud of herself for being mature enough to choke that out. There is a frustrated, angry part of her that wants to throw a childlike tantrum. But flinging pillows, crying, and whining will do nothing to change her reality. It feels awful to be forgiving him for something that she has wanted so badly. Hell, she'd give just about anything to be able to remember the feeling of his tongue in her mouth.

When she hears his sigh of relief and sees a small smile grace his beautiful face, she is glad that she chose to accept his unwanted apology. He gently pokes her knee. "Of course I would be here to take care of you. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. But I must say, I was quite surprised at how many takers you had, at how many other people were willing to come here and deal with all of your nonsense."

That is both sweet and insulting, and Amy can't resist returning his smile. It's crazy to feel touched by a sentiment phrased that way, but she knows that she'll never stop enjoying the way his magnificent brain works.

The timer on the stove dings, interrupting her thoughts.

"The bread will be done in five minutes. Here, let's get you dressed."

Sheldon reaches for her nightgown and has managed to pull it over her head and poke her arms through the short sleeves before she even has a chance to consider objecting. He tugs the loose, bulky material down her torso to cover her before pulling the towel away from her body. It's tempting to offer to go commando, but he is already tucking her feet through the leg holes of her underwear with brusque efficiency. He has it up over her knees only a few seconds later, and then he stands and offers her a hand to help her out of the bed.

It all happens so fast that she doesn't have time to feel embarrassed at the fact that he is helping her with such a personal task. But perhaps she shouldn't be bothered anyway. The only one who would feel any sort of prurient response would be her. He would be more than capable of assisting her with clinical detachment.

The world spins as she comes to her feet with his steadying assistance, and she has to rest her hands on his strong shoulders to keep her balance. Ever the gentleman, Sheldon looks at her face while he stoops down to pull her undergarment the rest of the way up over her hips.

Finished with his task, he smiles and takes her elbow to guide the way. "Come on, let's go eat. You're finally about to have the extreme privilege of learning the precise differences between a soup and a stew."

* * *

—-

* * *

After the unfortunate conversation in her bedroom and an even more awkward discussion about using the restroom, Amy has made it clear that she intends to do as many things for herself as possible. For his part, Sheldon has insisted on hovering over her while she walks, but has acquiesced to her demand that he 'get the heck out and go away' in the moments when she actually sits to relieve her bladder.

Anyway, with those hurdles cleared, he is pleased to find that the dinner conversation flows much more smoothly. As well she should, Amy listens with rapt attention to his lecture about stew. She takes her ibuprofen and eats heartily, which seems like a great sign for her recovery. Eating well and sleeping well are important factors that should aid her in healing.

"You're quite the talented homemaker here, Sheldon," she says as she finishes her final spoonful of stew. "You're even outdoing Raj, making dinner with homemade bread, not to mention the full bath and dressing services. If I find potpourri sachets in my drawers after laundry day, then I'm going to have to check you for signs of alien replacement."

Her joke makes him feel more at ease than he has in weeks. "I'm a man of many talents, Amy Farrah Fowler. That you haven't experienced them all yet does not mean that they don't exist. And I'll take this moment to remind you that I anticipate a similar level of care the next time I'm out of commission. I expect your homemade chicken soup when I'm sick—no skimping with that stuff in a can."

"That's funny. I could've sworn I heard you using my can opener a little while ago when you were making stew."

Busted, Sheldon tries to shift the conversation. "Perhaps it would be best to have a relaxing evening of television viewing."

Amy tilts her head at him and narrows her eyes, but her face soon contorts when she tries to stifle a yawn. "I suppose that would be best," she concedes. "Harp playing, writing, and knitting are certainly not viable options. In fact, I guess I'm not able to do much of anything right now."

"We'll have you healed back to normal in no time," he assures her.

"Yes, everything will be back to normal soon."

Her quiet response sounds sad, but that can't be right. Getting better should make her happy, so maybe it is just tiredness that he hears in her voice. Sheldon hustles to clean up their simple meal and then leads her over to the sofa to rest, shoving aside a few blanket in the process.

"Did you fold yourself onto this couch to nap out here today?" she asks.

"No. Actually, I slept on the floor of your room for a bit. I hope you don't mind, but I needed to be able to hear you if you needed me. There are too many hard surfaces around here to have you traipsing about the place on your own."

He can't read the expression on her face when she says, "Oh. That must have been a very uncomfortable place to rest."

Sheldon wants to show her his calculations. He has done the math of how much square footage her small body takes up as a percentage of the total area of her bed. Perhaps that would make it easier for her to see that she has plenty of space for one six-foot, one-inch tall man at her side. Pulling his phone out from his pocket, he intends to bring up the notes file where he has put together the necessary data.

Before he is able to speak, she repeats herself. "Sheldon, I suppose _all_ of this must be uncomfortable for you."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Even carpeted, the floor is a bit firm for a mattress, and my vertebrae did make a rather unique cacophony of sound when I got up, but I have a plan that I think we should go over to remedy that."

Often one to gesticulate with her hands while talking, it's strange to see Amy waving about with only her left hand. "I'm not talking about the floor or your back. I mean that this entire situation is uncomfortable. You aren't my boyfriend anymore, and I wasn't even sure you would want to be my friend after the way I broke things off and then left without a proper explanation. Doesn't it feel weird for you to be here taking care of me like this after all of that?"

He doesn't even have to think about it. "No, it doesn't feel weird at all. I wasn't intending on getting into that subject tonight. You're tired and need your rest, but I can give you the simple rundown."

Amy wrinkles her eyebrows. "I can't fathom it being simple, but okay, sure."

"First of all, there's nothing you would ever do that would make me stop being your friend. As for the romantic aspects, I understand your confusion, but as I see it, we aren't broken up. Rather, we're in the midst of an ongoing, pesky misunderstanding."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "What? How do you figure that we aren't broken up? I even signed the termination notice in the Relationship Agreement and faxed it to you in triplicate."

"Yes, that was unfortunate, as was your decision to run away from the situation. You did, however, explain in your own time."

She doesn't say anything, so he continues, "I got your letters. Your explanations are thorough and compelling, but they are also incorrect the vast majority of the time. There's far too much conjecture and false information therein, so I've had to render your ultimate conclusions null and void, seeing as how those conclusions have been built upon faulty premises."

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she answers him. "A relationship can only exist while both parties agree to it. You can't just declare my feelings null and void."

"Not your feelings, Amy, I'm referring to the unassailable facts of the situation. Your logic is sound, but your axioms are not. Your chosen method of communication didn't leave me with a chance to explain, but I did begin my rebuttal while you were gone by writing you a letter of my own. In fact, I have a considerable amount of other evidence to present to further my case."

"Your case?"

"Yes. I believe that together we are greater than the sum of our parts. As such, our relationship deserves due process. Before you unilaterally sentence it to death, or otherwise restrict its freedoms, I think you should hear all of the relevant facts. Don't you?"

"You know very well that I'm fond of collecting data. I've been assimilating the facts of our relationship over the past five years, and I can't deny that I'm curious about how you could possibly believe that I've got anything at all incorrect, much less the majority. After all, I've been a firsthand witness this entire time." Tilting her head at him, she finishes by urging him, "But by all means, set me straight."

"Well, not right now!" he objects, slightly perturbed at how squeaky his voice sounds. "I need time to prepare my exhibits, gather evidence, prepare my testimony, and consult with some experts."

He can see her eyebrows turn down while she considers his words. When she leans her head back against the couch cushions and buries her eyes in the crook of her elbow, he starts to suspect that it might be time to let it go for the moment. It becomes even more obvious that she has had enough when she mumbles, "Sheldon, did I take the good drugs again and not notice?"

"No, you did not. I'm quite serious about this, but maybe we ought to get back to it when we are both better prepared. At this point in time, however, you should be resting."

Leaning forward to scoop up the remote control, he continues, "I searched on Google for recommendations for chick flicks. If you'd like, I can turn on _The Notebook,_ and that should render us both unconscious within minutes. The _Twilight_ series is on as well, but I think we've both suffered enough recently."

She removes her arm from her face and rotates her head to look at him. Her position reminds him of the drugged pose she took on this morning, but her pupils are properly sized this time. "You'd sit through watching a chick flick for me?"

He shrugs. "I believe I said that I would sleep through a chick flick with you, but yes, that's close enough. I've made it through a few of those old French movies of yours, so don't act so surprised."

"Every time I have ever looked over at you during those French movies, you were never paying any attention to the screen whatsoever," she points out. "More often than not, you were browsing Reddit on your phone screen, and the rest of the time you were looking at me because you got caught."

That's partially accurate, except for her guess about why he would be looking at her. He didn't do that because he got caught; he did that because it was far more interesting to watch her than those boring old movies. It seems that she never figured that out, and he doesn't entirely want to mention it now. It wouldn't do for him to be so sentimental and sappy, especially when he might already have to make it through _The Notebook_. A man can only be expected to handle so much girly drivel in one evening. How Raj manages to endure such things of his own volition is a mystery. Sheldon can almost feel his Y chromosomes cringing.

"Perhaps it would be best if we skip the movie, and I tuck you into bed instead," he suggests.

She blinks slowly at him, her eyelids growing more droopy with every passing moment. "It's not even eight o'clock at night. I shouldn't feel this tired after napping through most of the afternoon."

"Sleeping more frequently and for longer lengths of time is a natural part of the recovery process for a concussion. Additionally, neither of us got much sleep at the hospital last night. I don't intend to be awake for long either."

When she closes her eyes for a few seconds, he starts to wonder if she's already nodding off. He's about to poke her to find out, but she opens her eyes and beats him to it, tapping his knee with her index finger.

"I don't want you to sleep on the floor," she says.

He doesn't want that either. Still, he must insist on being in the same room with her. Picking up his phone again, he taps a few buttons and begins to recite the plan that he had put together earlier. "I have some information that you might find helpful in this regard. You see, a typical queen sized bed has a surface area of 4800 square inches. If we approximate your sleeping form as a rectangle, then a 64 inch tall woman with a maximum body width of 14 inches at the shoulders takes up an area of only 896 square inches. This means that you take up only 18.67% of the space on your bed."

Amy chuffs out a tired laugh. "I see. Well gee, Sheldon, it sounds like that would leave plenty of room for a man your size."

He nods, "Indeed. To be precise, a man of my height with an average shoulder width would take up only 1095 square inches, or 22.8% of your bed's surface area. Even if you want to be stubborn for now and consider me as merely your friend, surely you could spare less than a quarter of your mattress for the sake of a friend's postural health."

She smirks at him with her half-closed eyes. "Are you asking to sleep with me?"

"Obviously."

They've had a sleepover in the same room before. It was in a blanket fort in his living room, and they didn't share a bed, but he's not sure why she sounds so amused by the idea. It's not that implausible.

Her smile widens, and she manages a sleepy chuckle. "I never thought I'd see the day when Sheldon Cooper would ask to sleep with me in my very own bed."

He hopes that she's kidding but suspects that she's not. With a straight, serious face, he says, "Sheldon Cooper most definitely wants to sleep with you."

Her smile fades, and her eyes open to their normal size. She licks her lips and says, "Are you sure? I snore, and I, um, I don't have any Star Wars bedsheets or superhero night lights to help you sleep."

He's not sure if she's genuinely trying to put him off or if that is some kind of sarcasm. At any rate, he makes a mental note to gift her some proper sheets and a Wonder Woman night light on the next appropriate holiday.

There is no reason to answer her with anything less than honesty. "I'm sure. You snore softly, and the sound makes me sleepy."

Then, for additional reassurance, he tacks on, "As for the rest, Penny already packed my Luke Skywalker action figure and my Superman night light."

* * *

—


	22. Chapter 22

—

* * *

CHAPTER 22

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Sheldon has them both up and out of bed at the moment the clock hits 7 AM. Always a slave to some form of routine, she isn't the least bit surprised to find him efficiently bustling her through the everyday tasks involved with preparing oneself to face the day. She declines his offer to assist her with a morning bath and makes due with a washcloth, a bar of soap, and a seat in front of her bathroom sink. It's not that she doesn't trust him to help her; it's just that she would prefer to have the plausible deniability of drugs running through her system when it happens. Maybe she should fill that prescription after all.

She vacillates between enjoying his company and being annoyed by his hovering. It feels amazing when he brushes her hair, but when he tries to brush her teeth, she nudges his side with her elbow and shoos him into the other room. That is a task she can accomplish on her own, albeit left-handed. She flosses her teeth with a stick flosser, relieved that she got a chance to get that done before Sheldon could approach her with string floss and a crazed look in his eye.

Amy has never been anything other than fully independent as an adult. Her need for help in her current condition has been difficult to accept, particularly in the personal ways that have been required thus far, and particularly so soon after her privacy was violated by a stranger. Finding out that her captor had good intentions has not erased her memories of being afraid. She is confident that Sheldon is doing his best for her, and she's grateful to him for it. In retrospect, she's certain that she would not have been able to let her mother or her friends assist her to the same degree.

By 8:30 AM, she is dressed and fed, and she sits on the sofa while Sheldon putters around in her bedroom. Waking up with him this morning was a surreal experience, but nowhere near to the extent that falling asleep with him had been.

He had sat down on the bed a considerable distance from her, wearing his sexy plaid pajamas. Though he seemed hesitant at first, he did move under the covers in short order, and they laid together in silence. Every minute or two she could feel him slide an inch closer to her, until his hand was close enough to brush up against the side of her own. The contact was welcome, and she returned the gesture by giving his hand a little squeeze. When she did so, he turned to her and promptly pulled her into a hug.

The warmth of his embrace and his familiar baby powder scent enveloped her, and it was undoubtedly one of the most comforting moments of her entire life. She knew that she should let him go, that she shouldn't get too attached, but of course it was far too late for that because she has been attached to him since the day she met him. When she found the strength to try to pull away from him at last, he held on tight and whispered to her, chastising her to keep her wrist elevated. Lying flat on his back, he gently moved her injured wrist to rest against his chest and shoulder. This left the other side of his chest as a convenient natural pillow, and she finally gave in and stopped fighting the temptation to cuddle the man.

As tired and comfortable as she had been, sleep still did not come easily. She reminded herself more than once that there's nothing overtly sexual about a hug, but her stupid body kept flooding her bloodstream with useless, lustful hormones anyway. His mixed signals over the past day dominated her thoughts. He was being so physically affectionate and insistent that she had everything wrong in her letters, but at the same time, she'd rarely seen him so regretful as he had been when he confessed to kissing her. In her bed, cuddled in his arms, she had felt her hopes rising once again in spite of her doubts.

Amy thinks she might've fallen asleep on him for a significant portion of the night, but Sheldon has been too polite to bring it up or to offer any complaints about it this morning. In fact, that might be the most surprising aspect of her first day with him acting as a caregiver. Pulled from his normal routine, his apartment, and his beloved job, she wouldn't have expected him to be able to adjust with the ease that he has shown thus far. He doesn't handle change with any kind of grace whatsoever, but aside from rearranging the items in both her kitchen and bathroom cabinets for 'improved efficacy', he has been adapting to her small world quite well.

Whatever his reasons are for staying by her side, she figures that she might as well enjoy his company while she has it. He may simply feel sorry for her, but at this point, even pity-based snuggles feel pretty darn good. She is unsure of what to make of his attempts to defend their romantic relationship last night. Frankly, she had thought that the lack of date nights and mandatory physical contact might be appealing to him as they revert to friendship. Perhaps it is the idea of a permanent change in their status quo that is causing him to resist.

Still, since her return, she has been met with his unflinching kindness and seemingly boundless amounts of non-mandatory affection. It's baffling in the extreme, and given the trauma of recent events, the drugs of yesterday morning, and her addled, post-concussive thought processes, she wonders sometimes how much of this is even real. Maybe she's in some kind of delusional, hallucinatory, waking dream state. Of course, if this were all some idealistic fantasy in her mind, she's not sure why her brain would continue to send her signals for the aches and pains of her injuries, not to mention the painkiller induced constipation. That seems implausible.

After a few minutes, Sheldon emerges from her room with her purse in one hand and her right orthopedic shoe in the other. Plopping down next to her, he sets the shoe on the floor, which makes it easy for her to slide her foot into it by herself. It's a small thing, but she relishes every opportunity for self-sufficiency.

"Are we going somewhere?" she inquires.

"Yes, we've got to get you to your doctor's appointment. It's a short ride, so I don't expect you'll require any additional medication. I've scheduled our morning routine with an extra fifteen minutes of buffer time to account for your slower walking pace, but we really ought to get moving."

That's weird. Amy doesn't remember having an appointment scheduled for so soon after leaving the hospital. Nevertheless, her brain hasn't been processing information under ideal circumstances as of late, so it could easily have slipped her mind.

She is pleased to find the journey out to her car to be easy compared to what she remembers of the previous morning. A good night's sleep has done a great deal to improve her sense of balance. Even so, Sheldon keeps his arm wrapped around her back to guide her way, probably remembering how wobbly she had been a mere twenty four hours ago.

The car ride is quiet, Sheldon being overly-precise behind the wheel. He proves to be as capable of a chauffeur as he has been the past day as a live-in nurse, and he doesn't even mix up the pedals. When he flips the turn signal at the entrance to the medical building, Amy reads the sign and turns to stare at him, suddenly aware that his silence has not been due to a desire to optimize safety while operating a motor vehicle.

She grits her teeth and asks, "Sheldon, what are we doing here?"

He sets the parking brake and then looks up at her in his innocent, boyish way. "You got a reminder call during your afternoon nap yesterday, and I didn't want to wake you. I can't say I'm surprised you forgot about booking it, given the chaos of the past few weeks."

Chaos is as good a word as any, she supposes, and she certainly had forgotten all about her reproductive endocrinology appointment. Still, the thought of going in and dealing with the subject of her advancing infertility is not appealing right now, especially not with Sheldon here.

"I'm sure I can reschedule," she offers.

"Why would you want to do that?"

She looks at his incredulous face, wondering why it isn't obvious to him. "It's not a good time."

He glances at his watch while reaching for the door handle. "It's true that we'll be late if we stay out here gabbing. We'd best get moving."

"Sheldon!" she grabs his elbow. "I'm not talking about punctuality. I'm saying that this might not be the best moment for me to try to deal with my… reproductive issues. It's not exactly a priority."

He looks at her askance. "Of course it's a priority. I know we haven't had a chance to discuss this yet, but my research into premature ovarian aging shows that we'll have considerably more options the sooner we take action. This is no time to procrastinate."

At that, he exits the vehicle, leaving a stunned Amy just a few seconds to think while he rounds the car to come assist her. The only thing that rings over and over through the synapses of her injured brain is his peculiar usage of the pronoun 'we'.

* * *

—-

* * *

Sheldon is thankful for handicap-accessible automatic door openers. Not only does it make it easier to escort Amy into the building, it also means that he can push the button with his elbow, preventing him from having to put his hand on the germ-infested surface of a medical establishment.

In the waiting area, he stands with Amy while she checks in, and when they go to sit, he opts to remain standing by her side. Those cloth covered seats and arm rests can't possibly be disinfected well enough to suit his standards. Amy keeps giving him funny looks, and she does it again when he rummages in her purse for the travel bottle of Purell that he has stashed away there. He transfers it to his pocket for maximum convenience. It's unlikely that he'll be able to avoid touching anything for the entirety of his time here.

Amy's phone dings a text message alert from within her cardigan's pocket. She is able to wiggle the device out with her uninjured, non-dominant hand, and Sheldon squints to read the screen from above her head. It's Penny. She and Bernadette want to stop over at her apartment to have lunch with her later today. That would be convenient. He doesn't want to leave her home by herself, but he needs to have a chance to get back to 4A to gather materials to present as evidence in their relationship trial. At the very least, he will need to collect the engagement ring and the letter he wrote.

A medical worker calls Amy's name at her precisely scheduled appointment time of 9:15, and the accuracy of it settles Sheldon's nerves. This doctor may yet prove worthy of aiding them.

He helps Amy to her feet, and she turns to him and whispers, "You don't have to come back with me. If it's weird for you, you can wait out here."

"It's not weird," he replies, because it isn't. It puzzles him as to why she would even think so.

The two of them follow a nurse who directs them into a small room. The interior decor is dull and drab, containing not much more than an exam table, a desk with a stool, a sink, and two chairs. Amy opts to sit in a chair, and as soon as the nurse leaves, she points at the seat next to her and says, "Sheldon, sit."

Carefully keeping his hands confined to the safety of his lap, he sits on the very edge of the seat.

She sighs. "I can see that you're not comfortable being here like this."

"Yes, I prefer standing at these places. I don't like hospitals or medical offices. There simply isn't enough disinfectant in the world for what goes on at such establishments."

"That's not what I meant." She wrinkles her eyebrows and tilts her head. "You were fine at the hospital with me the other day."

"There is nothing about that situation that could ever be considered normal, and as a result, I would certainly not characterize my mental state at the time as 'fine'. I assure you, I have since scrubbed every nook and cranny of my person with your antibacterial bath soap."

"I, um, you're right," she admits.

That is one of his favorite phrases to hear from a person. He wishes he'd had his phone on to record it so that he could play it back as needed. Unfortunately, she soon ruins it by adding, "That wasn't a typical set of circumstances, but I wasn't referring to cleanliness. Sheldon, when I say that you seem uncomfortable, well, I just want you to know that you are in no way obliged to be involved in my medical problems, and—"

He holds up a hand to stop her from voicing any further malarkey. Her assumptions about him are once again out of line. Besides, surely she should be able to see that it's impossible for her to do this without him and vice versa. They don't clone people yet, and she only has one form of the requisite gametes.

"I'm not interested in this matter out of some sense of obligation. My motives are purely selfish. It may not be the right time yet for either of us, but someday we might want to do humanity a favor and procreate. It's not like I can do that without you."

She stares at him. "Technically, you can, even if I can't. There are billions of other women on this planet." Looking away, she adds, "I'm sure you could be happy with someone else."

He recalls something like that from her final letter, some warped piece of encouragement for him to look elsewhere for a more suitable mate. When she eventually looks back up at him, he catches her eyes and insists, "Amy, that's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And I'm friends with Wolowitz and Penny, so I've heard some real doozies."

"Over the past five years, we have rarely spoken of the future, but when we did, the one thing you seemed interested in was the possibility of us having a child together. It looks like it may be too late for that, or at least too late for me. Anyway, it's perfectly reasonable for me to want you to have the best life possible."

"It's absurd for you to think that I could live my best life without you in the most prominent supporting role. I have done the math. I don't even need my whiteboard because it's simple. There's one of you, and you are it for me."

Her eyes blink several times in rapid succession until she swipes at them with her fingertips. She sniffles once or twice, pinches the bridge of her nose, and says, "I hate the thought of you missing out on the chance to have superior offspring. There should be as much of your genome in the world as possible, as far as I'm concerned. But me?" She shakes her head in the negative. "I'm… defective."

He folds his arms over his chest. "Well how about that? I thought I'd already heard the most foolish statement ever, but here you are, trying to top yourself only a few seconds later. Needing a little help from science doesn't mean you're defective, Amy, and even if you were, I'd want you anyway. You are so much more than a pair of ovaries. Stop being ridiculous."

A knock at the door interrupts their poorly timed discussion. A middle-aged woman walks in and smiles, but her grin fades as soon as she looks over at them. "Oh my. It looks like someone has been having a rough time."

Sheldon briefly wonders if she heard them through the door. When she introduces herself as Dr. Burke and inquires about Amy's wrist, ankle, and the small bandage near her hairline, he remembers that his girlfriend's outward issues are far more evident than their interpersonal turmoil.

With a shaky voice, Amy gives a woefully inadequate summary of her past week. He can't blame her for not wanting to give the full story, though.

"I'm sorry to hear about your accident. I hope you feel better soon, Ms. Fowler."

"Dr. Fowler," he corrects.

The doctor turns to him with a raised eyebrow, "And you are?"

"Dr. Sheldon Cooper, the boyfriend and optimal paternal candidate."

Amy coughs, so he taps her on the back a few times like his mother used to do to comfort him when he was ill. He hopes that she isn't getting sick on top of everything else that has gone wrong recently. It's a real risk, given how much time she has been spending in these germ factories.

"I see," Dr. Burke says, and she offers a handshake to him as well. Begrudgingly, he accepts it, figuring he can sneak his hand into his pocket and apply some clandestine hand sanitizer soon enough.

She sits at the desk with a small laptop and clicks a few buttons. "Dr. Fowler—"

"Please, call me Amy."

"Of course. Amy, I've looked through the labs we received from your gynecologist, and I do concur with his assessment of your condition. What I want to do today is go over some of the options that are available to you."

"Okay."

"Obviously, the most pressing question is whether you wish to someday have biological children."

He is surprised when Amy hesitates before responding, "Quite frankly, I have no idea. I'm not sure if that's what I want at this time, or ever, but having the option taken from me this early is upsetting, to say the least."

The doctor nods. "That's understandable, for sure. If it is of interest, we do have procedures that allow us to harvest some amount of ova. You are not yet at the point of complete ovarian failure, so this has a fairly good chance of success. Even if you aren't prepared to undergo IVF at this time, we can store the frozen ova until such time as you make that decision."

She gives a quick glance to Sheldon before refocusing on Amy and adding, "It appears that you have a father in mind, and as such, you may want to choose to store fertilized eggs instead. Admittedly, pregnancy rates are much higher when fertilized cells are frozen, but you would need to be quite confident about the father you want if you choose to go that route."

He looks at Amy, but she is staring at her knees, so he addresses the doctor instead. "How soon can we start?"

"Oh, well, that's going to be up to Dr. Fowler." She turns her head and continues, "Amy, the process can be lengthy, and while I know it is an important decision to make, I do recommend acting soon if you want to keep this particular option open. The first step would involve four weeks of contraceptive use to suppress ovulation and put your body into a known, steady hormonal state. At the end of that time period, there would be two weeks of hormone injections, culminating with an egg retrieval procedure."

Sheldon really wants to have a say in all of this because it affects him just as much as it does her. Still, he understands why this part must ultimately be Amy's decision. Besides that, it would be awkward for him to interject his opinion, to try to explain in front of the doctor that if Amy doesn't have children, then it won't be possible for him either.

"What if I decide not to do it?" she asks. Her eyes dart to his, and she stares at him while she corrects herself. "What if we decide not to do it?"

"That's an option too, of course. We can go over your choices for hormone replacement, and if you eventually want children, adoption or egg donors will still be available at a later time."

"Could Amy still conceive in the traditional manner?" Sheldon asks.

He watches Amy's cheeks turn dark pink, and she starts coughing once again. After he pats her on the back a few times, quieting her down, the doctor answers, "It's possible, but that possibility will be diminishing more and more rapidly. In my professional opinion, it is not a wise gamble to take with the time that her ovaries have left. And from what Dr. Fowler has indicated, she may not be prepared for a pregnancy at this time."

It's quiet for several long seconds before Amy speaks again. "I have to admit to being overwhelmed right now. I don't know what to think." She looks over at him and repeats herself, "I don't know what to think about anything."

Dr. Burke nods. "I can certainly sympathize. It's unfortunate that your condition does rush things along, but regardless of what path you end up choosing, it wouldn't hurt to begin with contraceptives at this time. If you opt not to continue with the hormonal injection stage, we can move in another direction, but if you do end up wanting to proceed with egg retrieval, then you will be happy you started the clock on these initial four weeks."

After a few more seconds of silence, Amy voices her agreement. "Okay, let's do that."

At her decision, Sheldon breathes a sigh of relief. Accepting this opportunity is the right thing to do, without a doubt, because it gives them the most freedom for the future.

The doctor smiles as well. "It's a fine place to start. I'll send a prescription request to the pharmacy we have on record for you. As one additional point of concern, while you're mulling things over, I'd advise you to also go over your insurance coverage. California has an infertility insurance mandate, but policies do vary. The only real drawback to going through with this process is the possible financial burden."

"That's not a problem," Sheldon interjects, not wanting that concern to weigh on Amy at all. They both look at him, but he only has eyes for one of them. "I'm happy to cover the costs for whatever we need."

* * *

—


	23. Chapter 23

—

* * *

CHAPTER 23

* * *

"That was a strange email," Bernadette says, transferring some shrimp sashimi to her mouth with the aid of her chopsticks. She and Penny have come to Amy's apartment to share lunch and to check up on their injured friend. With Sheldon in charge of her care, they figured it's best to make sure that everything is going smoothly.

"Have you ever gotten an email from Sheldon that wasn't strange?" Penny asks.

Bernadette can't argue with that. She smiles her agreement and then turns to address Amy. "We just wanted to bring you lunch. I didn't know we'd have to pick from a Sheldon-approved list of recommended food choices. That was an awful lot of nutritional research about prebiotics, probiotics, and foods with anti-inflammatory properties."

Penny looks puzzled. "You actually read all of that? I just thought sushi sounded good."

Bernadette shrugs. "I skimmed it. I would've ignored it, but I saw the word 'wasabi', and that caught my attention."

Amy has been eating some miso soup, and occasionally she snags a piece of a salmon roll. She has been very quiet so far, and Bernadette decides to try to get her to open up a bit.

"So, aside from being overly obsessive about your nutritional needs, has Sheldon otherwise been a good nursemaid? I imagine things might be a little weird considering that you broke things off with him."

Penny snorts. "It's Sheldon. There's no way that things aren't weird. Seriously though, is he driving you nuts yet, Ames?"

Setting down her soup spoon, Amy says, "No. In fact, he's been… wonderful."

That's an eyebrow raising statement. Over the years, Amy has often described Sheldon in glowing terms, but given the cozy living conditions that those two have been sharing, Bernadette finds herself wanting to know exactly what she means this time. "Is that your way of telling us that you two are back together?"

"What? No. Well, maybe. Actually, I think it's starting to feel that way, but to be honest, I'm not sure what's going on. He has been overbearing, yes, but also helpful and downright affectionate. Penny is correct. Everything has been weird. Sheldon's been inserting himself into my life with all the subtlety of a bulldozer."

Pointing in Amy's direction with her chopsticks, Penny says, "Sweetie, I told you before that he was a complete wreck while you were gone. I've never seen anyone so hellbent. Did you know that the cops even thought he was a suspect when you first went missing?"

From the look on Amy's face, Bernadette thinks it's quite clear that her friend did not know that. It's confirmed when she says, "Sheldon was a suspect? That's insane. He would never hurt anyone."

"I know, right? Leonard and I tried to tell them that, but with your recent breakup and his borderline stalker-ish attempts to track you down, I guess things seemed suspicious. And Sheldon being Sheldon, he had a way of saying the exact wrong thing at every turn. But you know the really crazy part? Even though they put him through that, once they cleared his name, Sheldon made peace with them. He even ended up working with that DiSalvo guy to try to find you, and he pretty much succeeded. I mean, he was right outside that house when the ambulance arrived for you."

Amy looks incredulous and has a vocal inflection that matches. "He was?"

"Yeah. He figured out that someone must've gotten you off the trail, and then he was bound and determined to work his way through every damn house in that entire town to track you down, starting with the empty ones. When he found you, he contacted the deputy."

"Then why didn't I see him there? He hasn't told me anything about this."

Penny tilts her head and squints her eyes. "I'm not sure why he hasn't told you. Maybe he doesn't think it matters because he didn't make it all the way in to rescue you. You never saw him because the cops who showed up carted him off to the police station. Anyway, they thought he was the nutjob that had been keeping you there. They didn't realize that he was a different kind of nutjob."

For a second, Amy looks almost too shocked by the story to speak. Eventually she whispers, "I—I don't know what to say. It's amazing that he did that."

"It really was something," Penny agrees.

With a stronger tone, Amy turns on her automatic Sheldon defense system. "But Sheldon's not a nutjob. He's a genius."

"You might call it genius, and I might call it whacko, but I think we can both agree that he is not a typical man. When I say that he's a nutjob, it's because he is, but he's nuts in an endearing and wonderful way."

Penny's sweet and sour sentiments seem to be enough to dissuade any further argument. Amy returns to looking stunned.

After a few more moments of silence to allow her to adjust to the news of what Sheldon went through, Bernadette can think of something to add. "He was deeply affected by your absence. Even before you went missing, it was very clear that he did not want your relationship to end. It's no surprise to any of us that he has insisted on being the one to take care of you. At this point, I'd only be shocked if you managed to get him to leave."

It's true. Bernadette could not have predicted Sheldon's behavior when Amy left and then again when she went missing, but having witnessed parts of it firsthand, she fully expected him to take over Amy's care once she returned. It has been no secret to anyone the extent of how much he has missed her.

Penny called him endearing, and that sounds about right. It's not a descriptor that Bernadette ever would've thought she'd use for Sheldon, but now it seems apt. There has been something wonderful about witnessing Amy's boundless love for Sheldon being returned by him to the same degree. She used to think their relationship was a one-sided obsession, and she's happy to find herself proven wrong. They are both equally entwined in their special little web of dorky love.

Amy is biting her lip, making Bernadette wonder if her friend might have something interesting to reveal. Penny cocks an eyebrow. Perhaps she is thinking the same thing.

It's Penny who is the first to prod. "So, Ames, how have things been going in the cozy confines of 314?" She tips her head towards the couch and adds, "That's an awfully small space for a man who's as tall as Sheldon to spend the night, especially if he's going to be here for a while."

When Amy's cheeks start to turn pink, Bernadette knows that Penny has struck gold. Amy mumbles, "He didn't sleep there."

In unison, Bernadette and Penny squeal, "Ooh!"

Bernadette adds an additional squeak, "And where might he have slept?"

With a sigh, Amy admits, "He slept in my bed, and before you ask, yes, I was there too."

"Ooh," they respond again.

"It's not like that. There was plenty of space for both of us. We're talking about Sheldon here. It's not like there's any possibility of hanky-panky to ooh about."

Penny scoffs. "Unless he's at risk for hypothermia, Sheldon Cooper does not sleep in a bed when there's someone else in it, certainly not with a woman there. Come on, Ames, that's worthy of an ooh."

"I concur," Bernadette says with a nod. "Besides, what did you guys do? Did Sheldon put up a board in the middle of the bed like the prudes in colonial times used to do?"

"A bundling board? Those weren't very effective, you know."

Of course Amy would know the proper term for that. Bernadette gives a quick nod, wanting her to get back to the potentially juicy details.

"No. In fact, Sheldon and I, um... we cuddled."

"Oh. Well then it sounds like maybe he did put up some wood," Bernadette jokes.

Penny snorts, and it looks like she's nearly choking on her sushi. She gulps down some water, and that seems to be enough to stop her coughing fit.

"Come on, guys, he was just offering some friendly comfort," Amy objects.

Even with her giggles now under control, Penny's eyes still look pink and watery. Nevertheless, she folds her arms across her chest and is the first to voice the obvious. "Sheldon's first thought to comfort someone would not involve cuddling. If he wants to offer comfort, he makes a person a hot beverage. It's not optional. Did you notice any tea or hot chocolate at your bedside? Because if not, then that's not why he was doing it."

Finally giving up a smile, Amy admits, "Maybe you're right." Her smile fades when she adds, "But I don't want to get my hopes up. I spent five long years hoping for that kind of intimacy with Sheldon, and that's more than enough experience to tell me that I should not hold my breath. It's especially unwise given that he has been acting under the pressure of these unusual circumstances. I've enjoyed the contact over the last day and a half, but that does not negate the reality of our previous years together."

Their relationship has grown a lot, but Amy's words still ring true to Bernadette. She has seen her friend experience more than a little rejection over the years. In fact, at this point, for all of the disappointment, Amy might as well take up watching baseball and become a fan of the Cubs.

Penny continues to argue in favor of optimism. "I'm telling you, that man is in his mid-thirties, and he's going to hit puberty eventually. If he wasn't interested in sex at all, I don't think he would have spent the last few years vacuuming all of the crazy cobwebs out of his brain to allow him to hold your hand, hug you, and kiss you."

With narrowed, suspicious eyes, Amy asks, "You seem awfully adamant about Sheldon's intentions. Do you know something that I don't?"

They are, of course, aware of something that she isn't. Penny has blabbed to everyone else, so the ring is only an unknown quantity to Amy. When Penny starts to open her mouth, Bernadette gives her a warning glare and a quick jab to the shin with the toe of her shoe. It's tempting to clue Amy in, but it isn't their secret to reveal.

Stretching her arm down under the table, probably to rub the sore area of her shin, Penny shakes her head no, offering a silent lie in answer to the question. It looks like Amy believes it. She returns to taking slow bites of her lunch, and Penny and Bernadette do the same.

It is less than a minute later when Amy starts speaking again. "You know…"

When she doesn't continue, Bernadette prompts, "What? You can tell us."

It still takes her a moment before she answers, "Sheldon has been behaving very oddly since I got back. It's not just affectionate touches. He's done things…"

They both lean forward in their seats. Cupping her chin in her palm and bracing her elbow on the table, Penny looks on with rapt attention and says, "Oh? Such as?"

"This morning, he committed to doing something. I don't want to get into the details, but I can tell you that it was a huge gesture, and it was something that would make him a permanent part of my life."

Her wording makes Bernadette wonder if maybe Amy does know about the ring. She wants to pry, but her friend has moved on to a subject that she wants to be nosy about just as much as the ring.

"And yesterday morning, after he took me home from the hospital, he even went so far as to help me with a bath."

Penny looks on with continued interest, but warns, "If you're about to try to convince us that he did naked bath time fun with you out of friendship, then Amy, I'm going to be tempted to give that noggin of yours a new little tap to try to shake back whatever has gone loose."

"It isn't what you're thinking. I was drugged," she explains. "At the hospital, you, the nurse, and Sheldon all convinced me to accept a shot of narcotics for the ride home. It worked, maybe a bit too well."

"Okay, and…" Bernadette squeaks, gesturing with a waving hand for Amy to go on.

"There's not a lot that I can tell you because I don't remember much, and from what I do recall, I'm not so sure that I should even want to remember more. I know that I made a fool of myself, basically throwing myself at him and kissing him. But after I woke up from a nap that afternoon…"

This time it's Penny who waves at Amy to stop stalling and tell the freaking story already.

"When I woke up, I remembered forcing a kiss on him, and I started to apologize. Sheldon took that moment to admit to kissing me back, confessing to having done so in a manner often attributed to the French."

"Oh my God! I knew he had it in him," Penny interrupts. "So why the hell are you being so mopey and pessimistic?"

"It's not that simple. He told me what had happened and then apologized for it in the very next breath. He said that it was wrong and one of the worst things he's ever done. It was not some sudden explosion of repressed sexual desire. He regretted it."

"Oh," Penny responds with a small, sad sounding breath.

Bernadette feels her previous joy at Amy's revelation deflate too. But as she sits contemplating the frustrating conundrum that is Sheldon Cooper, she starts to wonder something. "Amy, are you sure that he was sorry about the kiss and not about the circumstances under which it took place? If you were so drugged that you can't even remember what happened, maybe he felt regretful about his choice to make a move at that time."

Amy wrinkles her eyebrows. "I don't know. I didn't think of that. He told me what happened and seemed saddened by it. He didn't explain why it upset him, though. I assumed that it was the action of kissing in such an intimate way that he found distasteful and that he was sorry because he knew he couldn't give me something that I wanted."

Penny perks up. "Bernadette is right. I mean, think about it. If he disliked the idea of that kind of kiss, then why would he have been the one to make the move to go at it with tongues in the first place? I don't know about you guys, but it makes a lot of sense to me that he acted on a desirous impulse and then felt guilty about doing it while you were in an altered state. It sure as hell makes more sense than it does for him to have done that for no reason and then, for no reason yet again, decided his own action was yucky."

Bernadette nods. "That lack of reasoning would be illogical. It's difficult for me to imagine Sheldon as capable of being horny, but it's downright impossible for me to imagine him acting in the absence of reason."

"I can think of a reason," Amy says with a defeated sigh. "It's possible that he would do something like that because he thinks that it's what I want. He hates change and wants the status quo of our relationship back. Perhaps that was his way of trying to placate me, and he found that he just couldn't tolerate it. To be honest, I've been wondering how much of this new, affectionate behavior has been precisely that—a desperate attempt to get things back to normal."

Her pessimism is a real bummer, but she does have a point. There is still one thing that wouldn't fit, though. "What would be the point of trying to placate you with a passionate kiss if he did so at a time when you wouldn't remember it? Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?" Bernadette asks.

"Apologizing for it wouldn't make sense either," Penny says. "And I'd also like to add that it's extremely rare for Sheldon to do anything at all that he doesn't want to, much less all of the stuff that you've been talking about. Amy, you of all people should know that by now."

"That's true. It would be unusual. I can't tell you how much I want to believe that he has been acting out of what he wants for himself. Sheldon has been telling me that I've been wrong about him, about a lot of things. It's not often that I hope he's right and I'm wrong, but I sure do when it comes to this."

Deciding to state the most obvious course of action, Bernadette suggests, "If you want to know the truth, you should ask him about it."

Amy's reply is a sputtered mess. "I—I can't do that. It's not—we don't do that. We don't talk like that."

Penny raises an eyebrow. "Well maybe that's the problem, sweetie. I mean, if you think things are over between the two of you, then what've you got to lose by asking?"

In self-deprecating fashion, Amy mumbles, "The last tiny shreds of my self respect."

Bernadette feels bad for her friend, and she sees a look of pity on Penny's face too. Amy sighs before continuing in a more normal voice, "I guess I've never spoken to him about certain things because I've always been afraid of what kind of answers I would get. It's always been easier to hope for the best than to risk having him tell me outright that he doesn't want the same things that I do. But maybe you guys are right. At this point, it's got to be for the best to know the truth, whatever that truth might be."

They all eat in silence for a moment, until Penny sets down her chopsticks with a decisive motion. "You know, Amy, you might want to prepare yourself for the possibility that he does want what you want. I still say that him kissing you like that had to be an act of lust. I mean, it's Arkham's Raisin. Leonard taught me all about it. The simplest explanation for something is usually the right one, and there's nothing simpler than a man wanting to get tab A into slot B."

The air of scholarly wisdom in Penny's tone forces Bernadette to have to stifle a giggle. She manages to get it down to a smile when she says, "I think you might mean Occam's Razor."

Having picked up her chopsticks and taken another big mouthful of food, Penny shrugs. She swallows and then waves her chopstick-free hand. "Whatever. My point is the same." She turns back to Amy. "And that point, my friend, is that you better mow your lady lawn and shave your legs, girl."

* * *

—

* * *

When Leonard stops by Penny's apartment to pick up some forgotten paperwork, he decides that he might as well eat lunch in 4A while he's there. With Sheldon gone for the next week or so, someone has to eat any perishable foods, and besides, it'll be a nice treat to eat in his own apartment in quiet solitude. Such an opportunity doesn't come up very often.

When he opens the door to the apartment, he finds Sheldon sitting in his spot, engrossed in something on his laptop screen. So much for a peaceful meal.

"What are you doing here? Did Amy kick you out already?"

Sheldon looks up. "Don't be absurd. Penny and Bernadette came over to visit Amy for lunch, so I thought I would come visit my spot and collect some essential items."

"So all three of them kicked you out."

"No one kicked me out, Leonard. They didn't have to. I have important matters to address, and I have no interest in gossip, giggling, painting my toenails, or waxing absolutely any part of my body whatsoever. It's best to leave the ladies to…"

He waves a hand dismissively, obviously searching for an end to his sentence. "Whatever it is that they do."

Leonard decides not to let Sheldon interfere with his lunch plans. He heads to the kitchen and begins assembling a sandwich, making ample use of anything that might spoil anytime soon. More often than not, when he makes a sandwich, his roommate is apt to look over his shoulder and critique his placement of ingredients, his ratio of meats and cheese to bread, and his distribution of condiments. Sheldon seems to be too engrossed in whatever he's reading to even notice what Leonard's doing, and the process of making a sandwich goes much smoother without his roommate's unasked for assistance.

While he's pouring himself a drink, he sees Sheldon gently close the top on his laptop, place it on the table in front of him, and sit back in his spot with a sigh.

"Something on the internet annoy you? Did someone use the word 'loose' when they meant 'lose'?" he asks, settling into the chair next to the couch.

As expected, even the mention of that word usage makes Sheldon twitch. "Ugh, no. Thankfully, I haven't encountered that travesty yet today. I was merely consulting Google on a matter of great import."

Leonard takes a quick sip of apple juice. "I haven't checked the news today. Is there some recent scientific breakthrough that I should know about?"

"No, this research was of a more personal nature."

That's interesting. If Penny were here, he is certain that she would not let that go. Maybe being married to her is transferring some of her tendencies to him because he finds himself curious as well. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Sheldon grunts. "I did find the answers that I needed, but they were not the answers that I wanted."

His wife would be able to ask nosy questions more effectively, but Leonard decides to give up on it. It might be best not to know anyway. Instead, he asks, "How are things with Amy?" He fully expects those two to be back together soon, if they aren't already. After all, he doesn't believe that either of them really wanted to be apart in the first place.

"Things with Amy are infinitely better than things without Amy. It's a challenge, though, as you might expect."

Living with a woman might be complicated, but so is living with a Sheldon, and no one knows that better than Leonard. He snorts. "A challenge for her to deal with you, or you to deal with her? That could go either way."

With an unamused look, he replies, "Leonard, I have been floating along in the choppy, turbulent flows of estrogen and irrationality, hoping that my little dinghy of logic and reason will not be capsized. Things have been difficult for me."

"I can't say I've ever found testosterone to make for a more reasonable, clear-headed existence. But I suppose you wouldn't know what I mean by that."

He is surprised when Sheldon continues to look at him with a serious face. "I have a flawless hormonal profile. I know very well what you mean. That's part of the problem."

Leave it to Sheldon to consider his hormones a problem. "You know, when you have a problem such as that, you might want to bring it up with Amy, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I intend to." Casting a glare to his closed laptop, he adds, "Unfortunately, circumstance is prepared to thwart my valiant efforts yet again."

Leonard can decipher his roommate's atypical thought processes better than most people, but he can't quite puzzle out this vague statement. "I figured you guys would be back together by now. Does that mean that things aren't going well? The two of you haven't managed to patch things up yet?"

"We were never broken, as far as I'm concerned, nor will we be. I've informed Amy of her logical errors, and with the weight of the evidence I have gathered, I expect her to fully concede to my rightness as soon as I have the opportunity to present it."

"Oh that should go over well. Nothing woos a woman quite like telling her how wrong she is."

Sheldon tips his head in affirmation. "Indeed. And it's no small degree of incorrectness, either. In any case, I was hoping to demonstrate the full extent of the error or her ways as soon as possible, but unfortunately, a key piece of information cannot yet be brought to bear upon the proceedings."

Chewing and swallowing gives time for Leonard to think that over, but it still doesn't make much sense to him. He gives the only advice he can think of. "Don't worry. I'm sure you two will work things out in time. Just be patient and keep being there for her in the way that you have been for the past two days. She'll come around."

"That is the plan. However, Amy is quite tired of patience at this point, and I'm inclined to agree. Alas, it isn't up to us."

Leonard is debating with himself about whether he wants to ask for more detail than that, but before he can decide how much Shamy he wants rattling around in his brain, Sheldon shuts down the conversation anyway. "Well that's enough about all of that. I have something entirely different to discuss—completely unrelated subject matter."

"Okay. What's up?"

He clears his throat. "Let's say, hypothetically, that a traveler from the past is sent into the future, to the here and now. It being more complicated to travel backwards in time, he finds himself stuck in the present."

Leonard continues to eat his lunch, wondering where Sheldon's strange mind is about to wander now. Hopefully it won't be onto a topic that will give him indigestion before he even finishes his sandwich.

Sheldon continues, "Due to his scientific diligence and intellectually rigorous pursuits, let's suppose that this gentleman has not previously been able to explore many of the world's social trivialities. In any case, among his myriad of issues, let's assume that this man has no familiarity within the realm of women or physical intimacy. If such an inexperienced genius were to find himself involved with a modern woman and the timing was right, what advice would you give him about pleasing her, if he were to, let's say, invite her to a pants-off dance-off?"

This is not hypothetical. Sheldon is no time traveler, nor is Leonard an idiot. "You're talking about you and Amy. Why don't you just ask me for sex advice directly?"

"What?" Sheldon squawks. "I don't know what you're talking about. This is an entirely hypothetical situation about an entirely hypothetical individual. I'm not a time traveler, Leonard. Not yet, anyway. Obviously this cannot be referring to me."

It's difficult to know what kind of answer to give in this spot. Just as he decides that it might be more comfortable to have this discussion while under the guise of Sheldon's ridiculous pretense, he sees his friend look down and admit, "But even if it weren't hypothetical, what would you suggest?"

* * *

—


	24. Chapter 24

—

* * *

CHAPTER 24

* * *

When Amy sits down to eat dinner with Sheldon, she feels embarrassed about sleeping away the vast majority of the afternoon yet again.

"It's good for you," he insists. "If it would help, I can recite your own lecture back to you about the restorative benefits of sleep. Particularly after a concussion, it's essential to rest and recuperate to speed your healing."

Amy pokes at her vegetables, trying not to be too grouchy. It doesn't work. "I feel like an infant. I eat, I sleep, I nap, and the whole thing almost makes me want to cry. It's frustrating not being able to do things for myself. I don't like being a burden to you, or to anyone."

"You're not a burden."

She tilts her head with disbelief. "Seriously? Sheldon, you had to prepare this meal for me, half carry my sorry butt out here to eat it, and then to top it all off, you just had to cut the meat on my plate."

He shrugs. "Okay, you're right. You are a burden. And you might want to add this mini tantrum to your list of childish behavior."

With the prongs of her fork, Amy viciously stabs one of the perfect little cubes of meat on her plate. It doesn't make her feel any better, but it does help forestall her from pouting about anything else, for the moment anyway.

"Amy, the best things that you can do for yourself right now are eat, sleep, and allow me to help you with whatever you need." After a quick sip of Yoo-hoo, he adds, "Oh, and throughout it all, try to avoid feeling stress."

That statement earns him an eye roll. "I don't think avoiding stress is a realistic option."

She transfers a bite of dinner to her mouth, trying to at least do something right. Washing it down with some water, she starts to feel guilty about voicing her frustrations in the face of all the selfless things he has been doing for her.

"I'm sorry that I've been taking out my poor mood on you. It's been wonderful to have your company, and you've been a tremendous help to me. I know how much you must miss your apartment, your spot, and your work. So when you get sick of being here, please don't hesitate to tell me. I promise I'll understand when you need to get back to your own life."

Sheldon looks puzzled. "But this is my own life. I'm not sick of being here, nor is there any risk of that happening. My work is in my mind, and thus it is with me wherever I am. I do miss my spot, but I've been testing various points around this place, and I expect to locate the ideal seating position soon. Perhaps this is a good time to warn you that the angles aren't quite lining up, and I may need to move some furniture to optimize the space."

His inadvertent sweetness topped with a dollop of his familiar obsessive-compulsiveness is enough to dissipate the last bits of her cranky mood. It makes her smile. "You can rearrange whatever you need to."

He returns her smile with a happy grin of his own. His simple pleasure at the idea of finding a spot here lifts Amy's spirits even more. Sheldon is here because he wants to be, and he clearly intends to remain for some time.

Even though she would like to help clean up, she shoves her need for independence aside and allows him to escort her over to the couch. The clink and rattle of dishes and cutlery fills her ears while she wonders if he has any plans to discuss their relationship tonight. After her chat with the girls over lunch, Amy is more curious than ever about what he might have to say to her.

An efficient tidier, he is sitting next to her within minutes, the faint smell of the lemony Lysol he must've used to disinfect her countertops following in his wake. "So what shall we do this evening? I brought my Star Trek DVDs, your bookshelves are lined with classic literature that is always worth a read, and I know you have _Scrabble_ in your closet, if you're feeling feisty."

None of that is what Amy would prefer, but one is far worse than the others. "Star Trek? Sheldon I already watched that with you a few months ago."

"Au contraire, you only saw Star Trek, the original television series. There are five other tv series, not to mention twelve feature films to enjoy. Star Trek is much more than a show. It's an entire franchise."

Her voice is flat when she answers, "You don't say…"

"I do say. Isn't it spectacular? And with the 50th anniversary of its inception next year, I expect more will be forthcoming."

His face looks so bright and enthusiastic that Amy can't bring herself to tell him that it is not all that spectacular to her. However, it looks like he may very well find enough joy in it for both of them. She can envision watching it with him, if only to bear witness to his own pleasure. Besides, if they put his DVDs on over the next week or so, she'll probably snooze through most of it anyway.

Still, there is something else on her mind. "Yesterday evening, you told me that you planned to impart your relationship wisdom upon me. Something about evidence and testimony, if I recall correctly."

Sheldon bites his bottom lip and glances over towards the front door, eyeing his messenger bag that hangs on a hook next to it. Or he might be hatching an escape plan. It's hard to tell.

"I am planning to do that. Well, I was." He meets her eyes again before continuing, "I ran into a little snag during this afternoon's research."

"Research?"

"Yes. I found a considerable amount of information about concussions when I questioned Dr. Google. Along with resting and eating a healthy diet, you should be reducing physical activity and avoiding anything that might raise your heart rate or elevate your blood pressure. It could cause serious complications."

"I guess I'll have to cancel that six mile jog I had scheduled for tomorrow morning," Amy says, wiggling her injured leg to make the joke obvious.

It doesn't look like Sheldon gets the sarcasm, so she continues, "I'm aware of the need for taking it easy. As a matter of fact, I'm well educated with regard to brain matters. It's the kind of thing a girl picks up on while getting a neuroscience doctorate."

He leans in close to her and squints into her eyes. "You haven't felt any worsening symptoms since yesterday morning, have you?"

That strikes her as an odd question. "You mean since coming home from the hospital? No. Actually, being safe at home and having all of that extra sleep has helped a lot. What makes you ask that?"

Sheldon goes from looking nervous to relieved and then back to nervous again during her very short explanation. He stands and starts pacing, three steps to her door and three steps back to her couch. "I wasn't sure if yesterday morning's bath was a… stressful event for you or not."

"I don't remember," she admits. "Compared to what happened during the days before that, I'm sure it can't have been that bad. But since you brought it up, I do have something about that morning that I've been meaning to ask you."

He paces even faster, and his voice sounds reluctant when he agrees. "Okay. But Amy, I'm not sure if this is the right time for this conversation. You are supposed to relax and avoid stressful situations."

She ignores his attempt to dissuade her. "You apologized to me for enthusiastically returning a kiss that I initiated. What I want to know is why you felt sorry."

His frantic pacing comes to a halt, and he plops himself back down next to her. "Isn't it obvious? You were considerably out of sorts from the drugs they gave you. It was inappropriate for me to have escalated our physical contact in that way at that time. Having since read about the importance of avoiding activities that might raise your blood pressure or heart rate, it was even more awful of me."

Speaking of heart rate, Amy's is beating with giddy glee. The girls were correct. She reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly, but before she allows herself to throw her arms around him to try to recreate the experience sans narcotics, there is a natural follow-up question. "Then why did you decide to do it?"

He stares at her and swallows hard. After a brief glance down to her lips, he meets her eyes again and pleads, "I'm not sure we should get into this right now. Can't we start with an easier, more mundane aspect of our relationship?"

Amy shakes her head and decides to utter the words that she knows will induce capitulation. "Not knowing these answers is causing me stress."

As expected, he acquiesces in an instant. He's looking at her lips again when he admits, "I didn't exactly decide to do it. You kissed me, and I had missed you so much. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right. So I dove in like some uncivilized heathen. I'm sorry."

Even though the girls told her to consider this very possibility, it feels like a dream come true to hear him put words to it. It really was an act of lust, a thing he wanted for himself. She only wishes that he didn't feel sorrow about giving in to an impulse that is bringing her so much happiness.

"Please don't be sorry. I understand why you feel bad about the circumstances, but you were only returning a kiss that I started and that you knew perfectly well I wanted. And Sheldon, from what I can remember and from everything that has happened since, you have been nothing but a complete gentleman."

He continues to look unsettled and flustered. "I touched your abdomen. In the bath, you moved my hand there, but I didn't pull it back right away. You were trying to encourage me to touch your…"

Sheldon pauses and runs his hand through his hair, an action that leaves it looking tousled and sexy. "I did stop you. Eventually. But I didn't want to."

She closes her eyes and counts out the first ten decimal places of pi to try to calm herself down and slow her breathing. If he catches on to how this is affecting her, he will end the conversation. She ends up counting out to twenty-five decimal places before she can open her eyes again.

"I'm sure that I didn't want to stop either," she says, proud of how steady her voice sounds. "I hope you understand that you aren't responsible for actions that I took. If anyone should apologize, it sounds like it ought to be me. You did not do anything that I am upset about, Sheldon. You are a good man."

That reassurance seems to be enough to set him at ease. His face is still flushed, but he is no longer fidgeting, and most important of all, he has stopped apologizing.

This might be a good time for her own confession. "When you told me that what happened was overwhelming and wrong, I thought that you found the experience itself distasteful, and you were sorry for that reason."

Sheldon licks his lower lip. "No, not at all. That's not what I meant by overwhelming."

His mouth looks inviting, leaving her a bit overwhelmed as they speak. "I didn't know what you were trying to tell me. The word 'overwhelming' does not have a connotation for being a good feeling, not strictly speaking."

"Maybe not, but context is key. When that context is in regards to kissing you, I can assure you that it is a good feeling."

She wishes that she could remember it properly. It is so tempting to lean closer, to kiss him and go fishing for his tongue with her own. With her heart pounding harder with every passing second, Amy feels several brief jolts of discomfort from her head. She reflexively presses her fingers to her temple and cannot stifle a wince.

Jumping to his feet, Sheldon scurries off to her kitchen. He returns in less than a minute with a glass of water and some ibuprofen. When he sits, he opts for the chair several feet away from her. "I knew we should postpone this discussion. If I put on some Star Trek, you can relax. I know how your eyes glazed over when we watched the original series. Shall I put it in?"

Amy's mind latches on to the last thing he said. She would love for him to put it in.

Fortunately, her brain reboots fast enough for her to realize that he's referring to the DVD. "I don't want to postpone this discussion."

Sheldon sighs. "I don't want to either. There are many other things that I need to tell you. I made a full PowerPoint presentation and everything. There are slides, Amy."

Of course there are. She smiles and says, "If I assure you that while I find your slideshows intellectually stimulating, they also tend to leave me in a relaxed state, would that make you feel better about continuing?"

He doesn't think about it for more than a second. "It would. My laptop is in my messenger bag. Let me just go whip it out for you."

Stifling a chuckle at both his enthusiasm and his wording, she says, "Please do. I'd like to see whatever you whip out for me."

He returns and chooses a seat on the couch with her again, but this time he places the laptop between them, a modern day bundling board, she supposes. His old computer is slow to boot, and he taps his finger in an impatient looking way next to the touchpad. Once it finally loads, he brings up his work with a few button clicks.

The first slide is a summary with three bullet points. Sheldon begins, "From the letters you sent me, it became clear that you had three main points of concern. Since all of them are completely wrong, we'll be going through each in detail so that we can highlight your most glaring mistakes."

He's only said a few words, but it's already starting to dispel any lingering desire to kiss him. Amy isn't sure what she expected from this. She was sort of hoping for a hint of sweetness sprinkled into an otherwise factual recitation of their issues, but at this point she decides it's best to quash even that meager expectation. He is Sheldon, after all. Hopefully he will at least move beyond telling her that she's been acting like a fool.

The next slide has her first issue spelled out in a bold font that looks familiar, but she can't recall the name of it. Sheldon continues, "Most of your logical errors are due to incorrect presumptions about certain basic facts. In any case, the first of your three main concerns involves your diagnosis of premature ovarian aging and a nonsensical belief that this makes you an unsuitable mate for me. We spoke of this earlier, but let me be clear: I won't be having children if they aren't yours."

After their visit to the endocrinologist this morning, there is no doubt in her mind that he damn well means this. She should not have allowed her own fears and feelings of inferiority to overwhelm her higher reasoning centers. More than that, she should not have assumed things about how Sheldon would respond to her situation.

Next to her, he continues to rant. It is a gentle, intellectual sounding rant, but a rant nonetheless. He must have the points of his slide memorized because he locks eyes with her while he speaks. "You think that there could be another woman for me someday, and that is flat out wrong. There is you, and there is me, and that is all. I will elaborate later, as the need arises. I know that I made an inappropriate comment about your eggs having a sell-by date while men can sire children for their entire lives, but you should note that I said 'men', not 'I'. It is true that men can sire children for their entire lives, but I, Sheldon Cooper, cannot. My sell-by date is your sell-by date."

His speech has left him slightly winded. She can see him take a few calming breaths before he whispers, "I don't have anything else to say about this. There is no evidence beyond my own testimony. Amy, please tell me that you understand that this one is complete and utter hogwash?"

She would like to nod vigorously, but given her head injury, that would be unwise. Instead she tries to infuse her words with all the certainty that she can muster. "Yes. I don't doubt you at all. Sheldon, no one has ever done anything for me like you did this morning at that appointment. I didn't get a chance to say it, but I can't imagine having a biological child with anyone other than you either. It was a mistake for me to think that you would feel differently."

He smiles. "Yes, that was a mistake, but I'm pleased to see that you are amenable to reason. That's the Amy Farrah Fowler that I know."

Before she can figure out if that's a compliment or an insult, he continues, "But that's only the first of your three logical failings."

Closer to an insult, she decides. It's difficult to feel bothered by it when he looks at her with concern in his eyes and reaches across his keyboard to take hold of her good hand. He turns her palm face up and places his first two fingers on her wrist. The contact feels sensual and arousing until she realizes what he is actually up to.

After ten seconds or so he says, "One-hundred beats per minute. That's a little high, Amy." He releases her wrist and stands to go fish something else out of his bag.

Once he sits down with his bounty and she sees what he has brought, she says, "You aren't really going to use that, are you?"

"Of course. How can we accurately gauge your blood pressure without a sphygmomanometer?"

Arguing about it would be a losing proposition that would only succeed in raising the eventual reading he takes. For this reason, Amy doesn't bother to object when he straps the cuff around her upper arm and goes through the process of measuring her blood pressure.

"One-twenty over seventy. That's normal, but we don't want it to get much higher. I suppose we can continue with your second ridiculous presumption for the time being. Nevertheless, we may need to take a break at some point. If you need to stop and meditate with some knitting patterns or something, let me know."

She wonders what he is so worried about. "Did you have something stressful planned?"

His eyes travel over her from head to toe and back up again. He nods.

Amy forces herself to keep her breathing steady and asks, "Good stress or bad stress?"

He sucks his lower lip into his mouth for a second, then releases it and says, "Definitely good."

His answer is enough to compel her to stop looking at him and to instead examine the blanket that is draped over the back of her couch. She contemplates the crocheting technique used and notes a few small areas that could use a repair. After a minute or so she has collected herself, and she is able to focus back on the situation at hand. Perhaps Sheldon also felt the need to examine some sewing techniques. He has snagged one of her other small blankets and draped it across his lap.

They both look back at his computer screen, and he clicks a button to bring up the next slide. His voice cracks when he begins, "Point number two…"

He clears his throat and continues, "Your second concern was with regards to the future of our relationship. You stated a belief that I did not want to live with you, and as an extension to that, you presumed that I would have no interest in marriage or children. Now, this is just as wrong as point one. In fact, the part about having children overlaps here, so I suppose I needn't go over the error of your ways on that again."

"No, you needn't. But I don't know how you can claim that I'm wrong about the rest of this. I've brought up living together on more than one occasion, even with the innocent suggestion of being roommates, and I don't think I've ever seen anything freak you out so much. The last time I mentioned it, you stowed yourself away on a train, hobo style."

"I wouldn't use the word hobo," he objects.

She doesn't say anything, and he gets back to the part that matters. "I can see why you might be confused. It's true that I left, but it wasn't entirely because of you. Everything seemed to be changing in my life all at once, and that kind of thing is difficult for me. As far as living with you as my roommate… Amy, that isn't who you are. That is not your role in my life. You can't be a roommate because you are much more than that. I just wasn't ready then for the more that you are."

That's fair enough, she supposes. She wants to be more than his roommate too. Rather than interrupt him to voice her understanding, she stays quiet to allow him to go on.

"Things are different now and have been for some time. Surely you can see how we've grown since then? I've been able to accept and tell you that I love you, and we have been closer than ever. I didn't put you on my application to go to Mars, but it wasn't because I didn't want you with me. It's not a safe journey, and those who end up going on that adventure will be unlikely to make it back."

Everything that he says rings true for her. She only wishes he had chosen to articulate some of this at the time.

He continues, "Anyway, I understand why the Mars thing and the train thing upset you, but there is something that remains baffling to me. On our anniversary, we were... communing on my couch. Being an anniversary, it seemed like a good time to talk about commitment. If that is what you want, then why did you get so mad at me for bringing it up?"

For as much as Sheldon claims to be baffled, Amy feels even more so. That isn't the way she remembers things at all.

"You didn't talk about commitment. You talked about watching a silly tv show. It was the most intimate physical contact we had ever had, and you were thinking about _The Flash_."

"I wasn't thinking about _The Flash_. Well, maybe a little bit, but beyond getting your opinion about the show, I was trying to explain to you the importance that I place on that particular moral principle. Starting a new television series is a big commitment. No matter how bad the plots get, once I've started watching, it's all over for me."

She thinks back to their date and tries to dig through the angry emotions in her memory. He did mention commitment at some point, didn't he? And if she views the situation through the unique lens of Sheldon-style logic, she can just about decipher what he was trying to say.

"I thought that you were so uninterested in what we were doing that your mind had wandered off to something unrelated," she explains.

"Well if that's the case, then you have been wrong yet again. I was very interested in what we were doing, and my mind had extrapolated that into the future."

He presses his fingers to the pulse point in her wrist again. Her mind swirls with a mixture of hope and happiness, and it combines with a contrasting deep regret about her own false assumptions. The confusion must be enough to keep her body from knowing how to react because it appears that she has passed Sheldon's heart rate check with ease.

"There is something else," he whispers, still loosely holding on to her wrist.

Biting his lip, his voice is shaky when he adds, "I had—I have a ring."

She feels her mouth drop open and her eyes widen with her growing incredulity. "What?"

"It's a family heirloom. My mother kept it in a safe deposit box in Texas on my behalf. I'd left it behind years ago, assuming that I would never have use for something like that. I asked my mother to bring it when she came to visit earlier this year. I wasn't planning to propose right away, but I knew that we were headed there. I thought that it would make sense to talk to you about commitment as a separate, theoretical issue first, without all the confusing emotions of romance to cloud things."

Shock and elation make it hard to form the words for a response. While marriage is something that she has always wanted with him, even Amy has held no expectation of it happening anytime soon, if ever. Hearing that it has been on his mind for so long is overwhelming. The good kind of overwhelming, once again.

She can't believe that all of this was going through his mind back then. She feels like an impatient fool for her impulsive actions, and the stupidity of it all makes her want to bang her head against the back of the couch. Further injury to her brain is unlikely to help the situation, however, so she settles for opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

He looks at her with concern. "Are you okay? Do you want me to get you a knitting magazine? Or shall I put on some Star Trek?"

She swallows down the lump of emotion that clogs her throat. "No. I'm okay. I just need a minute."

Resting her head on the back of the sofa, Amy closes her eyes and tries to calm down. It isn't really possible. Even if she were to count through all the infinite digits of pi, it would not allow her to stifle these feelings. She can only think of one thing that might help.

Opening her eyes, she has to face him and try to make things right. "Sheldon, I am so sorry. You've been telling me how wrong I was about things, but I had no idea it would be quite this extensive. I can't even begin to explain to you how foolish I feel."

Magnanimous isn't a word that one would often use to describe Sheldon. But that is exactly what he is when he answers her. "It wasn't your fault. Your letters made it clear that I had been remiss. You did make a number of incorrect assumptions, but that wouldn't have happened if I had been more forthright. Always one to state the obvious, Leonard recently brought up the fact that you can't read my mind. I don't think you need to apologize. You can't have been expected to know things that I never told you. In fact, from our earlier years together, you had plenty of reason to come to the incorrect conclusions that you did."

She doesn't think she deserves it, but he smiles at her and pokes her knee. "It's true that you were incredibly foolish. It's okay. Just don't let it happen again."

Her eyes tear up while she nods, and she smiles even through the tears, which is probably a combination that will confuse Sheldon. "I can't believe that you really want that with me. You've always been devoted to your work above all else, and from what you said at Howard and Bernadette's wedding, I thought you would aspire to live a happy life by yourself forever."

"You may not have noticed, but I'm not perfect. When I said that, part of me still wanted to believe that I could stay free of all human needs and weaknesses, but I already knew it wasn't true. I didn't want to be alone, even then, and that's why I first reached for your hand a short time later."

Amy remembers that moment with fondness, the first time that he ever initiated physical contact between them. Memories of past Sheldon touches remind her of their impending discussion of point number three. That final point can only be one thing. He must be intending to talk to her about physical intimacy—about sexual desire, more specifically. The thought is arousing, but also nerve-wracking. He has claimed that she is wrong about everything, but when it comes to this, she has no idea what he will say.

Unsure of how he will even begin the discussion, she looks up at his eyes and finds him staring at her face. While she is in the midst of contemplating the matter, she is distracted by a motion from down below. He still has one of her blankets in his lap, and she can see the lump of his left hand moving rhythmically down near his belt.

Heat rushes to her cheeks. He cannot possibly be doing what it looks like he's doing.

"Do you want to see it?" he asks.

Hell yes, she wants to see it. But he can't really be doing that, can he?

She can barely hear her own hoarse whisper. "See what?"

"The evidence."

"What evidence?" she squeaks.

Looking at her intently, he answers, "The ring. It's in my pocket."

Oh. He's turning the ring over and over in his pocket. She lets her breath out in one long exhale, feeling both relief and disappointment. Of course he wasn't doing that other thing. It wouldn't have been like him at all, but her rampaging libido had delusions of grandeur.

She clears her throat. "Not yet. I hope to someday, but not until the time is right. We aren't there yet. You said you weren't prepared to ask that question on our anniversary, and I don't want you to do so until you are sure that you're ready."

"A lot has changed since our anniversary date, but perhaps there are a few things yet to work out. Regardless, you will be seeing it someday soon, so don't ever doubt it again."

"I won't."

They sit in silence for a few moments. Now that so many of her concerns have been cleared up, the lull in their conversation doesn't feel awkward at all. The emotion of the evening has been a stressor, and her body sends her pain signals to complain about it. Even so, learning the truth is more than worth the physical discomfort.

Sheldon's voice sounds loud in the quiet room. "I should take you to bed."

Well that would be one way of going over point number three, but she suspects that his intentions are far too innocent. "You didn't finish going through your slides," she points out helpfully.

He squirms and his voice sounds a bit high-pitched when he says, "I'm not sure that it's a good idea to talk about your final concern right now. This evening's discussions have no doubt put a considerable strain on your body already."

"It's been a good strain," she assures him. It's impossible not to smirk when she adds, "We both know that you don't want to leave something unfinished." Sometimes his little quirks are so useful.

His left eye twitches like she knew that it would. "Even good stress can elevate a person's heart rate and blood pressure, Amy. That isn't safe when you're recovering from a concussion."

He's right, of course, but she would rather not admit it. For the most part, her mind is filled with a calm, Zen-like peace in the wake of his revelations. After all of the self-pity and her dark, gloomy outlook, the new lightness of being feels fantastic. Unfortunately, in contrast to her newfound mental contentment, her body feels exhausted and worn out. The ibuprofen has helped some, but her head continues to ache. The ups and downs of their conversation have caused some throbbing pains as well. Despite her body's complaints, she feels certain that the stress of avoiding this conversation would have been worse.

The discomfort she's feeling must show on her face because even her sweet, clueless baboo is able to read it in her expression. "Does it hurt?"

His lower lip looks sad and pouty with his pitying question. She wants to lean over and suck that lip right into her mouth, but her head zings her a brief warning pain at the thought. Forced to resist that temptation, she gives in to the lure of gravity instead, resting her heavy, aching head against the back cushion of the sofa.

"Yes, it does. But Sheldon, I still want to know the rest. I want to know everything."

There is no audible answer from him, but he closes the lid to his laptop and sets it on her coffee table next to the blood pressure cuff. From those decisive movements, she figures that he has elected to wait on addressing point number three for the time being. It is disappointing, even though she knows that he is trying to do what's best for her.

Leaning back in his seat, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, covering the distance between them with ease. He delicately runs the tips of his fingers through the hair above her left temple, keeping a safe distance away from the bandaged area of her injury. The contact is soothing, and the tensed muscles of her body relax with the comforting motion. He continues to stroke his fingers along her head, taking up a gentle, rhythmic pattern to his movements. She closes her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, and after a minute or two, happy little goosebumps start to pop up on her skin.

With her eyes closed and her mind quieting down, she is caught off guard when he starts whispering. "I think you already know the final part. For the sake of completeness, I will say this much: I do want a sexual relationship with you. Your assumptions about that were as wrong as everything else. When you're feeling better, I look forward to detailing just how wrong you have been."

Lulled into a relaxed state, her eyes remain closed, but her smile is reflexive. With the ongoing, soothing caress of his fingers, she manages to control her breathing and keep her heart from leaping out of her chest. He is right. Part of her has already suspected his answer, and every bit of her has hoped for it.

She has not, however, expected him to be so forthright with the final part of his assurance. His whispered voice is so quiet that she almost wonders if she is imagining it when he says, "And when you are healed, I will demonstrate."

* * *

—-


	25. Chapter 25

—

Note: Wherever necessary, translational footnotes are at the end of a scene.

* * *

CHAPTER 25

* * *

Sheldon treats Amy to the first three episodes of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ , but her eyes appear to be half-closed, or even completely closed, throughout most of it. It's a shame that she's missing out on some of the action, but he supposes that it's more important for her to relax at this time anyway. Given their weighty discussions after dinner, he's pleased that she's able to do so.

When the credits roll on the third episode, she turns to him and says, "I can see why you chose this show. It's your plan to distract me from any carnal thoughts during this portion of my recovery period, isn't it?"

That is precisely why. "Yes. Turning to Star Trek in one's time of need is always a wise choice. It is for my own benefit as well."

She raises an eyebrow. "It's very effective. It's like an ALS ice bucket challenge straight to the libido. Still, now that you've admitted to sharing my desire for a sexual relationship, I don't know how I'm supposed to make it through the next several weeks of recuperation time without feeling… stressed, especially if you're going to continue to sleep next to me in my bed."

"I have a plan for that as well."

"You do? What is it?"

It seems like it should be obvious. Perhaps the temporary brain damage is to blame. "More Star Trek. Specifically, I figured that once we get in bed each night, I can help you focus your thoughts and get to sleep by teaching you Klingon."

"You're kidding."

"jIqID 'e' yIHarQo'." He translates for her, "That means 'don't think I'm joking'."

Not for the first time, his brilliance appears to have left her speechless. He stands to offer a hand. "Come on, an early bedtime seems prudent for the next few weeks."

"Sheldon, how do you say 'I'm not tired at all' in Klingon?"

"JlDoy'be'chu'taH."

She stares at him with one raised eyebrow, and he starts to think that maybe that was a rhetorical question. In any case, she does accept his hand, and together they make their way to her bedroom, stopping for a brief detour along the way for her to use the bathroom.

When she sits on the end of her bed and takes the nightgown from his outstretched hand, she insists that she wants to try to dress herself. He doesn't argue. Given their unusual situation, it might be for the best, and she has seemed much steadier today than she did yesterday, so she will probably be able to do it.

Sheldon gathers his own pajamas and retreats to the bathroom. He takes his time getting changed, and then spends a further few minutes staring at his face in the mirror, opting to engage in a brief session of Kolinahr. Other tension relieving techniques might be advantageous, but after so many years, stifling these sorts of impulses is second nature to him, so Kolinahr and Klingon lessons ought to suffice.

He returns to her room to find that she has succeeded in getting herself dressed, and she is sitting up in bed with a smile on her face. Happy to take his place next to her, he is careful to keep his body a safe distance from her own. His mother would have called it 'leaving room for Jesus'.

Despite their previous conversation, the moment feels awkward. Sheldon isn't used to navigating any kind of intimate situation such as this, and though his attraction to her is stronger than it has ever been, and he suspects she feels the same, under no circumstances can they allow themselves to act upon it. He forces himself to think about something else. At least her bed is comfortable. He relaxes into the soft pillows that prop him up against the headboard and ponders how best to begin Klingon lessons.

Amy, of course, doesn't make things that easy. "Sheldon, I want to talk more about point number three."

He stares at her, barely blinking. "QaQ qechvam 'e' vIQubbe'."

She tilts her head. "Sheldon, speak English, please."

"Very well. I said, 'I don't think that is a good idea'."

"You told me that you had more to say. I've had a few hours of rest, and I want to hear you out. I think I can handle a purely theoretical conversation consisting of the facts of this matter, don't you?"

Regardless of whether she can handle it, he's pretty sure that he can't. Even the simplest contemplation of coitus with Amy is enough to make his heart race and his blood pressure soar. It's best not to chance it having a similar effect on her. He doesn't want to rile her up again now that she's settled down.

"Your brain will require three to five more weeks of healing time before point number three becomes applicable." This is the unassailable truth of their situation. He doesn't like it either, but he won't risk her health, especially not when it comes to the endangered squishy bits of her intellect. He loves her mind above all else.

"That doesn't mean that we can't talk about it," she reasons.

"Perhaps not. But it does mean that we don't need to rush through the topic at the end of an already exhausting day. Rest takes precedence."

She attempts to negotiate. "Five minutes of discussion."

"In the morning, sure."

"Fine," she huffs, folding her arms across her chest.

"Where were we? Ah yes, Klingon. Now that is something we can discuss."

"Do we have to?"

"DuH 'oH Dochvam neH." _(1)_

"I can't believe you're going to make me learn Klingon when I want to talk to you about something that is so much more important."

"It's for your own wellbeing. And besides, tlhoS SoHvaD jIjatlhvIp." _(2)_

He doesn't think he could make himself admit it to her in English, but it's true that he's nervous about having that conversation. It will represent a big change in the status quo for them, and he has no experience with the subject. Nothing leaves him more unsettled than change or a lack of expertise, and that topic represents a mixture of both.

"Sheldon, stop that. I don't know what you're saying."

"Annoying, isn't it? Piques your intellectual curiosity, though, does it not? Perhaps I am saying things that would be of great interest to you. Don't you want to learn and find out?"

She looks at him with narrowed eyes, but he thinks she might be coming around. Tantalizing her intellect is amusing him tremendously, and it makes him smile when he imagines what the guttural tones of Klingon will sound like in her voice.

He looks into her eyes and confesses, "qamuSHa'choH. SoHvaD ngagh vIneH." _(3)_

Her little arms are still folded over her chest, and her turned in eyebrows may very well indicate further irritation. If she would just give in and learn the Klingon already, he is certain that she would not be annoyed by his sentiments at all.

* * *

 _(1) This is the only alternative._

 _(2) I am nervous to talk with you._

 _(3) I am in love with you. I want to mate with you._

* * *

—

* * *

The next morning, Amy awakens to find that Sheldon is already up and out of bed. Her alarm clock reads 8:47 AM, long past his usual wake up time, and it's long past hers as well. Wanting to continue regaining her independence, she decides to attempt walking to the bathroom on her own. She sits up and gets her feet on the floor, but gets no further than that before Sheldon's bat-like hearing summons him from the other room.

"I've been feeling a lot less dizzy. I think I can navigate the thirty feet to my bathroom without assistance," she grumbles.

His response is a simple warning reminder. "Hard surfaces, Amy. There's no reason to risk it."

She can think of a hard surface that sounds appealing right now, but Sheldon's unlikely to allow her contact with that, either. He helps her to the bathroom and back, and then politely leaves so that she can get dressed.

As she pulls off her nightgown, she considers how best to approach the day. Sheldon's revelations from the previous evening eclipse almost every other thought that she tries to have. In many ways, it still feels unreal to her. She has never before awoken in a world where he wants their relationship every bit as much as she does, where he wants to marry her, have children with her, and partake in the most intimate of physical acts with her. The thought makes her pause in the act of undressing. From what he has said, it sounds like she has lived in a world where all of those things are true for some unspecified length of time. She just wasn't cognizant of it. Now that she does know, she is unsure of how to negotiate her new, topsy-turvy existence.

It seems to her that more information would be helpful. She doesn't doubt what he has been saying, but trying to reconcile it with her previous assumptions is a challenge. If she decides to press the issue, she'll need to be careful. She does not want to make Sheldon uncomfortable or force him to do anything that he doesn't want to. If anything, maybe it would be best to give him some space right now.

Unfortunately, reality beckons in the form of hygienic necessity. Instead of putting on her clothing, she reaches for her robe and wraps herself up tight. She doesn't want Sheldon to think that she's up to any licentious trickery, but she does need a bath.

He shows up within seconds of her calling his name and looks at her with a puzzled expression, no doubt noticing her attire, or lack thereof. It doesn't seem to rattle him, however.

"I made do with half-measures yesterday," she explains. "Today, I think I ought to bathe properly."

While last night she could detect signs of nervous excitement from Sheldon, this morning he appears relaxed and unaffected, even as she sits in front of him clad in nothing more than a robe. It makes her wonder what sexual interest actually entails for him.

He smiles, looking proud of himself. "You'll be pleased to know that when I was out yesterday, I acquired a shower chair for you. Once I help you into the seat, you can disrobe and shower as normal."

"That's… thank you. It means a lot to me that you thought of that. I do want to do these things for myself again."

His thoughtfulness does make her happy. At the same time, his continued nonchalance is starting to make her feel insecure. She sat through a nauseating amount of Star Trek last night to distract herself, but this morning she can still feel the nagging pull of arousal. Sheldon, it seems, does not. At some point last night, he did agree to give her five minutes of discussion on the topic of intimacy. Even though she doesn't want to pressure him, she wants those five minutes right now.

When he reaches down for her elbow to support her while she stands, Amy resists and remains seated. "You seem awfully content this morning," she says.

Sheldon smiles again and sits next to her, close enough that the full length of his arm brushes against hers. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be? After so many days of upheaval, I awoke this morning at my normal hour. It's quite refreshing to find my circadian rhythms settling back into place this quickly. In addition to that, your healing has been going well, and, most importantly of all, you are no longer mired in the ridiculous delusion that you aren't my girlfriend. It's a good day."

She manages a weak smile of her own and murmurs, "You're right. It is a good day."

For all the years that she has known him, Sheldon has not demonstrated much, if any, overt sexual interest. More often than not, she has wondered if he even understands the concept. Nevertheless, as the best boyfriend in the world, he has routinely held her hand, hugged her, and kissed her. As of last night, he has even admitted to having plans for coitus.

His interest in all of this seems genuine, but she cannot reconcile these new claims with the man she has always known him to be. It raises a few troubling questions. Is he forcing himself to want this for her sake? If not, if this is purely of his own volition, what the hell has been going on during the earlier parts of his life?

Her internal pondering must be going on for too long because Sheldon squints at her and says, "You seem a bit out of sorts. Do you often feel grouchy in the morning? I can understand if you're accustomed to starting your day with the comfort of a hot beverage. Do you drink coffee? I'd bring you some, but caffeine is a stimulant and thus ill-advised so soon after a concussion. I could check your cabinets for some decaffeinated tea, if you'd like."

"I don't care about coffee, and I'm not bothered by the lack of a hot beverage. It's just that…"

Amy bites her lip, unsure of how best to explain. She is elated, frustrated, aroused, and confused. It's her standard set of emotions when it comes to Sheldon, but these feelings are all magnified by recent events. If there is an easy way to make him understand, she can't think of how to put words to it. "I've been thinking about some things. I have questions that only you can answer."

He looks a bit nervous at that. "Are these… point number three inquiries?"

He is quicker on the uptake than she would have anticipated. "Yes. I know that you've always found this topic to be uncomfortable, at best, and for that reason, I guess I'm not sure of the proper way to handle this."

Sheldon fidgets with a loose string that hangs from the sleeve of her robe. "I didn't think that I was unclear about my intentions."

"You weren't, and I'm not doubting the veracity of your claim. What puzzles me is the intentions behind those intentions. You told me that you want a sexual relationship with me, and even though you shut down our conversation about it, I thought you seemed as…" She pauses to wave her hand and dig through her mind for the right word before continuing, "…as stressed—as aroused—as I was. But this morning, you are relaxed and calm in a way that I can't comprehend after what we talked about. What am I supposed to make of that?"

* * *

—-

* * *

Of all of the things she could start by asking, she has to land right on an embarrassing one. Sheldon blushes and licks his lips. "I have not been disinterested this morning. Amy, as you well know, sexual arousal and climax are contraindicated for you in the aftermath of a concussion. As such, I thought it best not to burden you with this issue."

"Burden me anyway," she demands. "That isn't an answer."

This is not something he's used to talking about. "Very well," he sighs. "I am feeling unencumbered this morning because I've already had my own shower."

Despite his best attempt to give her a knowing look, she continues to stare at him. "And?"

People call him clueless, but here she is, unable to decipher the obvious. Fortunately, he remembers the whimsical way that Howard once referred to this matter. "And in the course of my ablutions, I engaged in a bit of… lightsaber practice with hands solo."

It still takes her a few seconds, but once her mouth drops open, he figures she must have finally gotten it. "Oh. I, um, hadn't considered that."

He clears his throat and rushes to add, "In any case, I want you to get better, and I refuse to risk your wellbeing over prurient interests that can wait. You shouldn't mistake my propriety this morning for a lack of enthusiasm. With that settled, what would you like for breakfast?"

His attempts to shove her mind away from his admission are futile. She doesn't seem the least bit deterred by his attempt to shift the topic. "Do you do that a lot?" she asks.

If he is going to make love to her at some point soon, he knows that he shouldn't be uncomfortable about a simple question like this. It still makes him squirm. "'A lot' would be a subjective measure."

That doesn't stop her either. "Fine. Objective facts it is. How often?"

He looks at his knees while he answers. "It varies. Generally, it is as often as any given date night or get-together of ours."

When he turns his head back up to look at her, he finds that she is staring at his lap where his hands rest on his thighs. Whether she's looking at his hands or trying to spot something else is unclear. More often than not, Sheldon has no idea about what another person might be thinking, and her unwavering scrutiny is starting to make him miss that ignorance. Right now, he is quite certain of what's on her mind.

He snaps his fingers to startle her to attention, not wanting her thoughts to carry her off to the land of rising vital signs. "Does that tell you what you needed to know?"

Biting her lip, Amy gives a slow nod. "It's quite informative. Um, to be honest, after five years, I'm stunned to have found out that you harbor any kind of sexual interest in me, or even just in a general sense. It doesn't fit what I thought I knew of you. I don't understand what has changed. Sheldon, are you sure that physical intimacy is something that you want, or are you trying to talk yourself into it because you want to make me happy?"

He longs for the simple conversations in life, things like quantum mechanics, general relativity, and string theory. Love is so confusing in comparison. Considering how often she has misunderstood him when it comes to this intimacy business, perhaps it would be best to put it all out there, to offer full disclosure.

"I've been trying to figure out how to explain things in a way that you'll understand," he begins. "But of all people, I think that you will be able to. Back when I met you, you were devoted to science, uninterested in emotional relationships, and baffled by those who allow their hindbrains to rule them. You believed love to be an unnecessary construct, and we had to perform a differential diagnosis before you could even recognize signs of sexual arousal in yourself. So let me ask you first, what changed for you?"

Amy is quiet for a moment, and he's glad that she's the one put on the spot this time. He's considerably less glad when he hears some of the sad things that she has to say.

"I grew up with essentially no friends and certainly with no boyfriends. People didn't seem to like me, nor did they understand me, and there were a number of things that weren't part of my life as a result of that. I think it was a self-protective, natural consequence for me to become the woman I was when you met me. It was easier for me to tell myself that I didn't want emotional entanglements or sexual relationships than it was for me to admit to myself that it wasn't even an option. No one wanted that with me."

It seems unfathomable to Sheldon that people would choose to not have Amy in their lives. He can't imagine a better friend. "People are stupid," he commiserates, having lived a similar childhood. Her words bring something else to mind, something he has wondered about for a while. "Is that why you lie?"

Her head jerks to face him. "What?"

"Self-surgery on webbed toes, claims of impossible hip angles and brittle knees. You are fond of making ludicrous, self-deprecating statements about yourself, particularly with regard to your body."

With pink cheeks, she answers, "I didn't think that you noticed that. Yes, those are obviously not true. It's an old habit that crops up when I'm uncomfortable in some way. When I was younger, I found that the best way to deal with the inevitable teasing or insults from my peers was to beat them to it by making things up. It hurts a lot less to be mocked for something that isn't true. When I met you and Penny, I continued to say those kinds of things as a test of sorts, I guess. But neither of you have given me a hard time for even my most outlandish tales. You've just accepted me, oddities and all. Since you both befriended me so readily, my quirks and I were safe with the two of you in a way that I had never experienced before."

He nods. "You've changed a lot since I first met you."

"All of my assumptions about people and relationships had to change in light of my newfound friends. I learned that I had a number of habits that were pushing people away, and once I acquired a few social skills, I began to reevaluate everything else. As it turned out, I wasn't the cold, emotionless, robotic woman that I thought I was, especially not when it came to my feelings for you."

"You weren't cold and emotionless then, nor are you now," he agrees.

Taking hold of her good hand, he begins his own explanation. "People didn't like or understand me either. They often still don't. I latched on to intellectual pursuits in a similar way as yourself. Beyond that, I became convinced that a purely intellectual way of life was superior to anything else, and whatever emotions I had, I taught myself to channel them into the productive outlet of science."

Amy looks at him, bobbing her head from time to time. Of course she understands. Sheldon continues, "To assure myself of my rightness, I regularly observed those around me. People always seemed to find a way to make themselves miserable in one mindless fashion or another, and a frequent culprit was sexual impropriety. I'm afraid to say that I witnessed this firsthand from my father, who not only made himself unhappy, but my mother and the rest of my family as well.

"Striving to be a purely intellectual being, I vowed to discard any errant sexual impulses along with every other emotion. I believe the proper term would be sublimation. Anyhow, I never found that to be difficult at all. There was never anything sexually appealing about any of the women I met because they were always so utterly unattractive in their lack of intellectual capacity. Becoming friends with Leonard and the guys was nice, in a way, but they were just as ruled by their hindbrains as anyone. My observations of people over the years did nothing to dissuade me from my existing opinion that it was all a distasteful business."

Glancing at Amy, he can't figure out what she might be thinking. She is looking at him with her full attention, her eyes fixed on him aside from the occasional blink. He feels a little shy about all of this, but he holds her gaze and gives her hand a gentle squeeze when he says, "And then you came along, one-hundred and thirty pounds of cardigans, stubbornness, and brilliance, ready and able to challenge my hypotheses. There was never anything unattractive about you. Superman has Kryptonite, Achilles had his heel, and the Star Wars franchise has George Lucas. As for me? I have you. You came kicking through the walls of my well-ordered, logical world with your chunky orthopedic shoes. You're my own little five-foot, 4-inch apocalypse."

After a few seconds of silence, she says, "That's beautiful, Sheldon." Brushing a little moisture out of the corners of her eyes, she smiles and adds, "I understand how perceptions and even long-held convictions can change. After years of denying your impulses, both sexual and emotional, I'm honored that you've chosen to share those things with me."

He scoffs. "You should be honored. Sheldon Cooper abhors change."

At his words, she tilts her head back and says, "Now that you mention it, I'm still not clear about the timing of this particular change. You've had me invading your life for five years, so why is the shift in your sexual worldview happening at this time?"

He blinks at her. She's kidding, right? "I told you, Sheldon Cooper abhors change."

It's Amy's turn to scoff. "Yes, I'm well aware. That's why this sudden shift is so odd."

"Oh. I see your confusion. This change isn't sudden. Surely you can't have missed the other steps we've taken?"

"No," she admits. "Though, you did tend to voice complaints about some of it to the point where I often wondered if you had regrets."

"Well, I assure you I have had no such regrets. As you may have noticed, I'm a very strong-willed person."

"You mean obstinate? Yes, I've noticed that."

"Fine, call it what you will. My point is that my resistance to change is innate. And the more important the subject matter, the more hesitant I am to jeopardize things in any way. Amy, I was filling my apartment with cats the first time we had a disagreement that separated us. You only became more and more essential thereafter. Because of who I am and how I am, I couldn't afford to take unnecessary risks with our relationship. Other people can make mistakes, find new lovers, move on with their lives. I can't. It isn't like that for me. There is only you and that has necessitated extreme caution.

"Being intimate… that's a big change. I've seen people wreck their lives and act like fools over coitus for as long as I can remember, so it isn't something I take lightly. I have wanted that with you, yes, but taking that step has felt daunting. The inertia was comfortable, and I loved everything about the way that we already were. So I thought, why risk it?

"The flaw in that plan, as you know, is that my avoidance of making a choice was, in fact, still a choice. Once you ended things, once you were gone, it was easy to see how unwise my indecisiveness had been. I tried to keep our relationship safe, but my attempts ended up having the opposite effect. Once I got your letters and figured out the extent of our miscommunication, I knew that I could set things right. Everything that you wanted was everything that I already wanted to give you."

He finishes with a shrug, "And having been through all of that, I fail to see a point in holding back anymore. Stifling our relationship has done nothing to protect it."

With nothing else to say, Sheldon can only hope that his explanation is sufficient. Amy lays her head on his shoulder and hugs his right arm between both of hers like a human sphygmomanometer. He thinks that the gesture must indicate acceptance of his words, but they've had so many misunderstandings lately that he decides to ask her outright. "Did that explanation help a little?"

She turns her face up, and he sees some shiny wetness in her eyes as well as a bit that has escaped down her pink cheeks. Her chin quivers when she tries to smile. "Yes, it does."

Relieved, Sheldon gently frees his arm from her grasp so that he can wrap it around her body instead. He pulls her in against his chest, so close that he can feel her hot breath on his neck and his ear. With her face only a few inches away, he can't resist the urge to lean down and brush his lips against hers.

To thwart any further temptations, he sits up straight and tucks her head against his chest, directly under his chin. This limited contact will have to suffice, for now.

* * *

—-

Note: The conversation of the past two chapters was probably the toughest part of the story to write. I hope it suited the characters and their situation well enough.


	26. Chapter 26

—

* * *

CHAPTER 26

* * *

Having planned ahead and worn his bus pants this time, Sheldon feels comfortable taking a seat out in the waiting room of the fertility clinic. Well, perhaps comfortable is an overstatement. A glance around the room shows him that there are two other men present, and each of them sit with a female companion. The only man sitting alone, he supposes it's obvious to everyone why he is here.

Amy offered to accompany him, but Sheldon opted to attend this particular appointment alone. After almost two weeks of daily injections to kick her ovaries into action, he figures she has already done enough, and he ought to handle this simple step on his own. Every time she has pierced her flesh with a needle, he has had to leave the room to avoid the sight, and he knows that the worst of it will be the egg retrieval procedure scheduled three days from today. At least for that step she'll be anesthetized.

Acutely aware of the specifics of her part of the process, Sheldon has never been so happy to be male. Procuring the essential gametes for his end of the deal should be decidedly simpler and less invasive in comparison. He will need to do this a second time on the day of retrieval, but today's sample is to provide a backup in case he has difficulties on the big day. He has always found self-abuse to be a largely mechanical process, and as such, he anticipates no issues. Nevertheless, Amy's condition may not allow for any further attempts, and he does not want to be the one to let her down, so perhaps the insurance provided by this trial run is for the best.

Amy has been back with him for just over six weeks now. They have spent a few nights at 4A, but for the most part, they continue to occupy her apartment. In spite of their many weeks of cohabitation, coital activities have not yet commenced. In fact, at this point they are more fluent in Klingon than even Sheldon would have ever wanted to be.

They were four weeks into her healing time when they decided to move forward with the next step in the fertility process. Over the following two weeks, she received great reports from both her neurologist and her orthopedist, but apparently injecting oneself with copious amounts of follicle stimulating hormones is not at all libido stimulating. In fact, it has had the opposite effect. She seems to have found the experience incredibly uncomfortable thus far. As such, it has been made clear that if he were to approach her reproductive regions with any part of his body during this time, there is a possibility that he won't get back the part with which he ventures forth. He has decided not to risk it.

Hormonally induced crankiness aside, living with Amy has been quite pleasant. They have both returned to work as well as their everyday routines, and he has found that adjusting to having her around is easier than he would've expected. It's certainly far easier than any of his attempts at adjustment during the two weeks when she was gone.

He has even done his best to get along with her mother. They have both managed to be civil, for the most part. Well, there was that one time last week when he called the woman 'yIntagh' in a moment of weakness. It was probably unwise to call anyone 'dumb as rocks' to their face, but at least he had the sense to disguise his opinion in Klingonese. Though her mother was unaware of the reference or the language, Amy was not amused. It was in response to her mother's vocal insistence that, with her daughter fully healed, Sheldon ought to move back to his own home soon. He could think of no pleasant response for that level of unsolicited nosiness, hence the epithet. Surely anyone who wasn't 'yIntagh' would recognize that he wasn't going to be going anywhere without Amy, that no place would feel like home without her.

Speaking of home, he still has every intention of convincing Amy that they should move in to his apartment. There is far more space there for both of them, and even if Leonard and Penny are still dragging their heels about moving out, he is sure that he can find a way to begin the eviction process.

Jarring him from his thoughts, an overly-chipper young nurse calls his name. He stands and follows her as she leads him down a few short hallways to a door marked 'Collection Room 2'. As he approaches the room, Sheldon tries not to think about what might be happening behind door number one.

"Okay, Mr. Cooper—"

"It's Dr. Cooper," he responds, wanting to maintain some air of dignity in these undignified conditions.

"Oh, I see. I'll make a note of that in your chart. Feel free to have a seat."

Sheldon looks around and sees a small, square shaped room. Like most medical facilities, the decor is dull, with beige walls, white tile floors, and a single window covered with white blinds. Unlike most medical offices, there is no examination table. There is a single black vinyl chair, a small end table, and in the far corner, a sink with some storage drawers underneath. The room smells reassuringly of disinfectant. Still, Sheldon has no intention of letting any part of his body come into contact with any part of this room. Bus pants alone provide insufficient protection.

"No thank you, I'll stand," he replies and crosses his arms over his chest.

His curt tone does not dim the smile on the nurse's face. "Very well. As a doctor, I'm assuming you're familiar with the donation process?"

The donation process. That seems like a polite way to put it. Sheldon is confident that just about every man of reproductive age on earth is familiar with 'the donation process'. A doctorate is by no means required.

"I have followed all of the pre-procedural instructions, and yes, I am familiar with the process."

"Excellent."

She hands him a small paper bag and a plastic cup. It is covered with several stickers, one with his name and information, one with Amy's name and information, and one that declares the cup 'sterile'. Sheldon wishes that the rest of the room could be assured to be equally sanitized.

"We have an assortment of reading material, if you are so inclined," she says and gestures to a glossy pile of magazines stacked on the end table. The top one proudly displays its name, 'Busty Brunettes', in a raucous, turquoise-colored font.

There is not enough money on earth to pay him to touch those. She must notice his distaste of that option because she rushes to say, "However, we also have a free Wi-Fi connection. Many donors find that their wireless devices offer a better selection of, um, inspiration."

He sighs, wondering if it would be rude to outright tell the young woman to go away. Unfortunately, she is still talking.

"Do you have any questions or concerns?"

"No," he responds flatly. This entire experience is already uncomfortable, and he has no interest in furthering this conversation. The nurse has been pleasant, courteous, and professional, but her continued presence is grating on his rapidly fraying nerves.

"Okay. When you are finished, secure the lid firmly, place the cup in the bag, and bring it out to us at the front desk. If you have any… difficulties… please let us know."

Sheldon has no intention of informing them of any 'difficulties', but he nods yes in the fervent hope that she might finally leave. At long last, she does, and he is relieved when he sees the door close on her cheery grin.

In welcome solitude, he sets down the cup and begins contemplating his predicament. For the past few weeks, he has reassured himself that this would not be a problem. Viewing it as a simple, clinical procedure, he never actually thought about what the moment itself would be like. Somehow, he has to become aroused and reach the point of completion in what must be one of the least enticing settings he can imagine. There is the hustle and bustle of activity mere feet away, the noise intruding into his small fortress of solitude. There is also the seemingly endless stream of female personnel, who are no doubt all aware of why he is in here and what he is doing. This well-used room is creeping him out too. Taken all together, it's almost like they are trying to make this more difficult.

In addition to all of that, Sheldon must perform with the knowledge of what his failure might mean. Sure, he will have another opportunity in three days time, but if the pressure is too much for him now, he can't imagine how bad it might become then. This must be why Amy and the doctor had so strongly recommended that he provide this backup sample. He can feel his heart pound and his breathing quicken, but it isn't in the good, useful way that he requires. Closing his eyes and internally reciting the periodic table of the elements, he attempts to forestall complete panic. Hyperventilating will do nothing to help him fill that cup.

Once he manages to regain his composure, he decides to approach the matter in a step-by-step manner, much like any other daunting task. Having and executing a plan is unlikely to lead him astray.

Step one, of course, is to lock that door. He looks around frantically and then spots salvation across the room. There are paper towels by the sink! Wrapping one around his fingers, he is able to turn the lock without having to make contact with the door handle.

The next step is to wash his hands, and he turns on the tap with the helpful barrier of the same paper towel. In order to operate the soap dispenser without the use of his wet hands, he finds he has to jab at it with his elbow. Beyond that, it's a straightforward process, and within a few seconds he is able to step away from the sink with clean hands, successful in his quest to avoid touching any contaminated surfaces.

Turning around, step three soon becomes apparent. He could stand, but sitting seems more relaxing, theoretically speaking. Given this, Sheldon supposes he will need to find a way to make do with his only seating option, as unappealing as it may be. After thinking it over, there is one solution that seems viable. He grabs a large stack of paper towels and begins covering the chair, constructing his own makeshift seat cover. It's a simple enough task, and the action feels almost comforting in its familiarity, being not unlike his public restroom ritual.

Upon completing that step, he gingerly sits upon his paper-laden, vinyl throne. The protective barrier helps, but Sheldon decides that he will have to get rid of these pants when all is said and done, regardless of his paper shield. They will have seen things that no bus pants should witness.

The next step is not quite so simple. He must achieve arousal in this cold, creepy, unsanitary room with too-helpful medical personnel only a short distance away. Like most anyone, Sheldon is no stranger to self-abuse, and this time it is for the noble cause of spawning their potential offspring. Beyond that, it is for Amy. He takes a moment to bolster his resolve and then reaches down to the front of his pants to see if he can get things moving with a stimulating nudge.

Just as he suspected, his initial foray is unsuccessful. Houston does not have liftoff. If anything, his anxiety and the chill in this room are encouraging his genitalia to try to crawl back into his abdomen. Sheldon closes his eyes.

For most of his life, he had viewed this act as a necessary evil. Sexual arousal used to be an unwelcome burden, and relieving it wasn't a pleasant task, but rather one of necessity. While it did feel good, it was still just another instance of his mind and his body feeling at odds, and he never much liked being a slave to his baser impulses. That has changed over the course of his relationship with Amy, with feelings of distaste for the matter being replaced by very welcome thoughts of his girlfriend instead. His mind and body are in full agreement these days, and he has partaken of coitus with her in his mind, with the assistance of his right hand, for more years than he would care to admit to.

Maybe he should have let her accompany him to this appointment after all. That thought causes his eyes to snap open. Would they have let her come in here with him? Contemplating that scenario causes the first hopeful twinges from below.

Regardless of what he would prefer, the reality is that she isn't here. He supposes he could use his phone to seek out some Amy doppelganger on the internet for his prurient use. Curiosity once got the best of him, and he had tried doing precisely that, but having done so, he now knows that such a thing won't help. No one looks quite like her, and watching a similar looking woman engage in sexual acts with a strange man would only make him irrationally angry as opposed to aroused.

Sheldon gets out his phone anyway.

* * *

—-

* * *

Amy trudges down the short hallway from her elevator to her front door. After finding it impossible to concentrate at work for even one minute longer, she gave up and skipped out an hour early. At this very moment, she knows that Sheldon is across town attempting a task that he probably finds very awkward. Attending to such a personal matter in a busy medical clinic will no doubt be far different than doing so in the comfort of his own private space. She's been unable to get her thoughts off of his impending appointment all afternoon, and her mind is awhirl with nervousness on his behalf.

It is exciting to consider the possibility that they might be able to have biological children one day, and she has no regrets about their decision to try to keep that option open. Still, she knows that even if everything goes well, her body may still fail to yield what they need. For his part, she supposes Sheldon is now coming to understand a similar kind of pressure. She hopes that it isn't making him too miserable.

Amy fumbles the key into the lock and curses under her breath when the door sticks shut. It takes several nudges of her hip before she manages to wedge it open. The humidity must be higher than normal today, she supposes. Actually, it has felt warmer than usual all week to Amy. Perhaps it isn't the weather so much as it is a side effect of the hormonal cocktail that is coursing its way through her veins. The egg retrieval procedure is scheduled a few days from now, and she can feel the weird ache of impending hyper-ovulation in her midsection, mittelschmerz.

While her mind has been feeling stressed about Sheldon's important appointment, her body has been having no qualms at all about what it wants. Initially, the injections made her feel bloated, uncomfortable, and cranky, leaving her long awaited sexual union with Sheldon to have to be postponed yet again. Over the past twenty-four hours, however, her body has apparently figured out that ovulation would be more useful if it is accompanied by desire, and her long-denied glands are now tossing off lustful hormones by the bucketful. As a result, she has felt the nagging pull of arousal all day, inappropriate and incessant. She wonders if this is what it feels like to be a man.

After shutting the front door, Amy deposits her purse and briefcase on the kitchen countertop. She pours a glass of water and takes a moment to run wet hands over her pink-tinged cheeks. It's impossible to keep Sheldon out of her mind. Is he doing okay? Although she tries to hold them back, more erotic questions flood her brain. How is it going? What is it like for him? Is he thinking of her while he does it? She'd give just about anything to watch him do it.

Amy feels her heart pounding in her chest and the uncomfortable feeling of sweat collecting on her skin. What she needs right now is a good distraction, but her Kolinahr and Klingon buddy isn't here. Perhaps a nice, soothing bubble bath would help. She knows perfectly well that she won't be able to resist indulging in a little self-exploration of her own, and with a clean bill of health from her neurologist, there's no reason not to. The thought of Sheldon doing the same thing at the same time gives the day's pressing desires a growing sense of urgency, and she wastes no time in making her way to her bedroom.

She has just kicked off her shoes and tossed her cardigan onto her bed when she hears a distant text alert from her phone in the other room. It's tempting to ignore it, but Amy is nothing if not responsible. She heads over to her purse and nearly drops the phone when she sees that the text is from Sheldon.

 _Hi,_ is all it says.

* * *

—

* * *

Sheldon is a childhood prodigy, a man with a genius level IQ, a holder of two PhD's, and a leading expert in the world of physics. All of this brain power and all he can come up with is _Hi_. He had even contemplated what to say to her for several minutes before composing that piece of brilliance.

Her reply arrives within seconds. _Hi, Sheldon. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon._

He sighs. She probably thinks that he is done already. There's nothing to do but confess. _I'm still here. It's harder-_

Sheldon angrily pokes the backspace button. Nothing around here is hard, nothing whatsoever.

 _It's more difficult than I anticipated. It's so cold in here,_ he types instead.

Hopefully she will have some words of wisdom, some helpful guidance to offer. Even reading her texts is enough to brighten his mood a bit. He feels a little warmer already as he reads her next reply.

 _That must be quite distressing. I'm having the opposite problem here. These injections are causing some interesting new side effects over the past day._

He is well aware of Amy's past two weeks of discomfort. She didn't mention any new side effects this morning, though. _Such as?_

 _Increased body temperature, localized vascular throbbing, and excessively prurient mental imagery._

Sheldon raises an eyebrow at that. He clenches and unclenches his fist before tapping out, _Tell me more._

 _Well, a number of hormones are having a powerful effect on both my body and my mind. It continues to be uncomfortable, but the discomfort has recently evolved into something oddly… fascinating. It feels good now. Compelling._

Compelling, indeed. The weeks spent sleeping chastely in her bed have worn on him more than he would have expected. He is a master of sublimating his desires, but ever since he admitted to both himself and to her that he is ready to let all of that go, his sexual impulses have been increasing in both frequency and intensity.

Switching his phone to his left hand, Sheldon reaches for his belt buckle. It's a slower process to type this way, but necessity dictates that he do so. _In what way is it good now?_

She is so incredibly smart. He is grateful for the fact that she seems to know what he is trying to have her do, and she is not making him explain himself further.

 _I don't have a word sufficient for this feeling. I'm warm—too warm. My heart keeps racing for no apparent reason, and I can't seem to sit still. I can't concentrate either. It's like my mind is not my own. More than anything, though, there's an aching feeling deep in my abdomen._

An aching feeling is something that Sheldon can definitely relate to. He licks his lips and is glad that she can't hear how pathetic his unintentional whimper sounds. He tries to thumb the letters to his next response, but it's slow going with his non-dominant hand. Autocorrect greatly improves the coherence of his words. _What does it feel like?_

She must be taking her time with this response. That's okay. He's occupied as well, successfully working up a productive, familiar rhythm.

Her message does arrive eventually, though it takes a lot longer than her earlier ones considering the brevity of her answer. _Like something is missing._

Sheldon can think of something that would fix that. He slows down enough to type, _Interesting. I'm feeling a bit of the opposite. Like I'm weighed down with something that I need to let go of. Is there anything that helps you find relief?_

Eager for her reply, he feels his eyes start to dry out as he stares unblinkingly at his screen. She does not disappoint.

 _I'm working on that as we speak._

He is too. Sheldon can't coordinate his typing hand anymore, so he focuses all of his mental energy and wills her to continue even without a response from him.

Thankfully, she does. _Things are getting worse, but they'll get better soon. It's been a very long time for me, and it's so warm here now. I wish I could send my warmth your way._

Yes! Panting and desperate, he fumbles for the phone one last time. _I wish you were here too._ In his mind, he imagines her next to him. Her hot breath on his ear, the warm richness of her voice, and the tight gripping heat of her…

At the point of no return now, Sheldon has one final, fleeting thought before his mind goes blank. The cup! His phone flies out of his left hand as he lunges towards the table. He snags it just in the nick of time and gasps out his relief for a blissful, unknown number of seconds.

For what must be the fifth time since he's entered this room, he finds the paper towels to be quite handy. After securing the lid onto his sample, he leans back in the seat, still catching his breath. Feeling equal parts relieved and ridiculous, he stuffs himself back into his pants.

The desire to scrub this place out of his skin is strong, but the desire to check in on Amy is stronger. He dropped her, vis-à-vis the phone, and when he picks the device back up, he sees that she hasn't responded to his last message. He feels the little hairs on his arms rise as he contemplates what might be occupying her instead. He must find out.

 _Amy?_

 _Yeah, Sheldon?_

He's not sure how to ask, so instead he just offers, _I'm feeling a lot lighter now._

 _I'm feeling much better myself,_ is her rapid response, and he finds himself smiling like a fool at the bright yellow emoji grin that ends her sentence.

* * *

—


	27. Chapter 27

_—_

* * *

CHAPTER 27

* * *

Watching Amy and Bernadette attempt yoga for the first time amuses Penny a great deal. Neither of her friends place exercise all that high on their list of priorities in life, but they seem to be giving it their best shot. They have pushed Penny's furniture back to clear an area in her living room, and with stiff, clumsy movements, the two of them follow her lead, arranging themselves into increasingly complicated poses. As fun as it is to see them trying not to topple over, the most bizarre sight of all has to be Amy and Bernadette wearing yoga pants.

Penny suggested this particular girls' night activity to help encourage Amy with her physical therapy. Simple stretches and strength exercises are of value, but she is beyond that stage now, and she should challenge herself more. The complex, full-bodied movements of yoga should help her regain her coordination and balance in a much more useful manner.

"Yoga tradition teaches that there are seven main points of the body that are vortexes of energy. They're called chakras. Next, I'm going to teach you guys a pose for each one: heart, pelvic, navel, root, throat, third-eye, and crown. What do you think?"

"I think that personal energy vortexes sound like a bunch of cha-crap, but I'm up for learning the poses," Bernadette says.

Amy nods her own agreement, so Penny begins by demonstrating a full wheel pose. "This position is a backbend to open the heart chakra, which is all about feeling lovable and being compassionate."

Bernadette manages to stretch and hold the position, but Amy quickly lands on her rear end. "I think my chakras would rather stay closed," she says.

Penny lowers herself back to her yoga mat and faces Amy. "Oh come on, that's just the first one. It is a super tough one, though, if your wrist isn't up to bending that far yet."

Bernadette makes her way out of the pose in an ungraceful fashion, nearly bouncing her head off her mat. She sits up and says, "I think we're all doing well enough in matters of the heart anyway. Let's skip to the next one."

Penny taps her chin. "Okay, fair enough. Next is the pelvic chakra, and I thought we could try a low squat for that. It might put a lot of pressure on your ankle, Amy, but it's a basic movement that you should regain after your injury."

All three of them are able to get into this particular position, and she continues her explanation, "The pelvic, or sacral chakra is about personal acceptance of the self, often having a slight emphasis with regards to sexual relationships."

That makes Bernadette snort. "Now that Amy and Sheldon have been shacking up for weeks, I think we're all doing just fine with our pelvic chakras too."

Penny giggles, but a quick glance to her left reveals a startled, pink-cheeked Amy. Looking flustered, her friend stands and says, "Let's talk about something else. Who wants wine?"

She takes a step towards Penny's kitchen, but Penny leaps up and snags her elbow before she can get very far. It has been difficult not to pry, but for the past several weeks, she and Bernadette have agreed to avoid quizzing Amy about Sheldon's sexual prowess. They have been assuming that everything is going well on that front because the two of them have seemed almost giddy ever since they got back together.

"No, let's not talk about something else. Amy, what's going on?" Penny asks. "You told us that all of your relationship issues were cleared up."

Amy glances longingly into the kitchen, perhaps wishing for that alcohol. "That's true. But, um, Sheldon and I haven't… well, you know. My pelvic chakra? It has remained closed for business."

"Really? But you guys have been living together, and with the way Sheldon was staring at your ass in those yoga pants when you two got here, I thought for sure…"

The pink in her cheeks burns brighter. "He did not."

Penny scoffs. "He did so. In fact, he's been checking out your rear view for years. You just don't catch him because you aren't facing the right way when it happens."

"Okay, fine. It's not that I doubt his interest in me, anyway."

Bernadette joins in and says, "I'm sure your concussion would've kept the train of lovin' out of the station for quite a while, but I thought you got back good reports from your neurologist almost two weeks ago. Did something go wrong? Did you have complications?"

Amy shakes her head, much to Penny's relief, and says, "No, I'm fine. There was another minor medical matter that necessitated a bit of additional sexual procrastination, but as of last week, that's been taken care of as well."

Feeling perplexed, Penny says, "So the two of you have been sleeping together every night for like a month and a half, and you both know what you want. I know it's Sheldon that we're talking about, but how the heck are you guys managing that ridiculous level of repression?"

"When we go to bed each night, he provides a distraction in the form of Klingon lessons."

If there's a good response to that lunacy, Penny can't think of it. Bernadette says, "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm quite serious. vIQIjlaHbe' je."

Together, Penny and Bernadette stare at her. Did Amy just have a stroke, or was that strange sound Klingon?

She clarifies, "That means that I can't quite explain it either. Anyway, I'm not sure why he chose Klingon lessons, but the important thing is that it has worked. In fact, I think it was brilliant of him to come up with that. Now that I'm better, we will no longer need to resort to it, but... well, I'm also not sure of how to proceed. Sheldon and I have certain well-established patterns of behavior, many years worth, and it's hard to break out of that. That isn't how we are together, you know?"

A sexual relationship between those two is difficult for Penny to imagine too. It seems to her that what Amy needs most right now is a bit of confidence. Perhaps a reminder might help. "You admitted that you believe he's attracted to you, and you know that he wants to have sex with you. Keep that in mind above everything else. It's going to be fine."

"I know. I don't doubt him. I really don't. Actually…"

Amy falls silent for a few seconds, but then she bites her lip and continues, "I found a letter from Sheldon today on my desk at work. He wrote it in response to my own letters way back when I was hiking, but he wouldn't give it to me until now. It was a love letter which, um, stated his sexual intentions."

Bernadette's mouth drops open and her eyebrows start rising. She squeaks, "A love letter from Sheldon? What did it say?"

Fanning herself with her hand, Amy replies, "I don't want to reveal too much, but let's just say that every time he mentioned the dopaminergic reward system or the pudendal nerve... well, it sure got my endocrine system churning."

It doesn't sound sexy at all to Penny, but she decides to take her word for it. "Um, okay, so if he finally gave you that letter today, maybe that's his way of telling you that he's ready to move forward tonight."

That suggestion is enough to shift Amy away from fanning herself. Instead, she switches to biting her thumbnail. She stops nibbling long enough to say, "It may very well mean that. Even though it's what I have always wanted with him, it still makes me nervous. I can't picture him making that first move."

Bernadette offers a solution that seems obvious to Penny too. "Then maybe you should."

Her response is instantaneous. "I can't. I won't. I promised myself a long time ago that I would not pressure Sheldon about this. In the past, I've pushed him for physical affection, simple things like holding hands and kissing. It was all very innocent, but sometimes it still felt like I was making him do something he didn't entirely want. Anyway, when it comes to this, I refuse to push him. It's important to me that he be free to decide on this step for himself."

Penny remembers the couple's history well. "That's understandable. Those years weren't always easy for you, I know. But things are very different between you guys now. He has already made the decision. You know what he wants, so there's nothing wrong with giving him a little encouragement."

Amy bows her head, and Penny hopes it means that she's come to agree. In any case, it's clear what the girl needs. The navel chakra is for confidence, to replace insecurities, and they should all be able to manage the boat pose. The throat chakra helps with clear communication, which is something those two could definitely use, and the corresponding fish pose shouldn't be difficult. Some trust in her intuition would be good for Amy too, so perhaps they can get started on the third-eye as well.

Penny wraps her arm around Amy's hunched shoulders. "Honey, it's time that we get back to work on your chakras."

* * *

—-

* * *

Howard always appreciates the moments when it's just he and the guys hanging out. It's not that he doesn't enjoy having the ladies around, but sometimes it's nice for a man to be able to sit back and adjust his balls without anyone shooting him a dirty look. It's also refreshing to not have anyone around who would be inclined to ask him what he is thinking about or how he is feeling. Quite often, the answer is that he is contemplating hot chicks, engineering, or nothing at all. He has found that none of those responses are prudent when a woman asks him that question. Sometimes full honesty is not the best policy.

Seated next to him, he sees Raj give a quick glance to the door. When the girls had mentioned yoga, his friend's face lit up with delight. It was obvious that he was sorely tempted to join in on ladies' night. Whether Raj's desire was to stare at three shapely rear ends in yoga pants or an interest in maintaining his own figure for swimsuit season, Howard still isn't sure. In the end, he did man up and choose to stay at 4A and play cards.

At the moment, Sheldon is battling Leonard while Raj and Howard thumb through their respective collections to trade. It looks like Sheldon is short on resources, so he expects to hear Leonard gloating about a victory any minute now.

Sure enough, Leonard soon does the over-exaggerated fist pump of a braggart. Sheldon glowers in obvious frustration, and it isn't a new sight. He always hates losing, and this evening he seems to be even more prone to irritation than usual.

The next matches are set to be Leonard versus Raj and Howard versus Sheldon. It's always so tempting to rile Sheldon up with some trash talk, so while they shuffle up and draw their opening hands, he ponders what topic would most set his opponent off his game.

It's low-hanging fruit, but Howard decides to pick it anyway. "So, Jon Snow, while I have often heard that you know nothing, rumor has it that even you have figured out where to put it."

Sheldon plays his first card without speaking, a clear attempt to ignore the opening gambit. Surely he must know by now that ignoring Howard does not deter him.

He continues, "Seriously, you and Amy have been playing house for quite a while now. Are you enjoying your transition from android to the full life of a real human male?"

Setting his cards face down, Sheldon folds his arms across his chest and glares at Howard. "I was born with a flawless set of chromosomes, and there is a Y in every single non-gamete cell. I have always been male, and I fail to see how living with Amy would affect my cellular composition."

Leonard looks up from his own game. "He's talking about coitus, Sheldon. And Howard, knock it off. That's none of your business."

"Of course it's none of my business," Howard agrees. "But that's why it's so fun to ask him about it. Besides, who doesn't enjoy bragging about their sexual exploits?"

Sheldon's face takes on the look of an offended supervillain. "For your information, concussions and physical gratification don't mix, so Amy and I have been taking things slowly. And for future reference, I highly recommend that you never again refer to her as a sexual exploit of mine, Howard."

It takes a moment for his reply to register in Howard's brain, but once it does, he finds himself regretting his choice of distracting chit-chat. It's no wonder that the guy has been acting more frustrated than usual. Everyone knows that he has it bad for Amy, and now that he's admitted to being a human being, it can't be easy for him to have spent so many weeks taking care of the woman he loves and sleeping by her side, all while circumstances force him to maintain a monk-like abstinence. It kind of reminds him of when people train a dog to balance a treat on its nose.

"I'm sorry. It was insensitive of me to bring up such a personal thing. I swear that I had no idea that things were anything less than ideal for you guys."

Once Sheldon picks up his cards, Howard supposes that he has been forgiven. It's got to be best to get back to the game, but he finds himself curious, and he also feels compelled to try to offer some commiseration. "So that's why you've been even more high-strung than usual, huh? That's understandable. All of us can relate to a little sexual frustration."

"I'm fine," Sheldon insists.

Howard has his doubts, and a quick glance shows him the skeptical faces of Leonard and Raj as well. He wonders if Sheldon is so uptight that he would deny himself completely. Maybe some advice would make him feel more comfortable with the idea of a bit of self lovin'. Howard clears his throat. "Well, as far as I can tell, Amy seems to be almost fully healed. In the meantime, I hope you've at least kept up with some solo practice. It helps."

At Sheldon's confused face, he decides to clarify, and he figures he might as well lighten the tense situation with a little inappropriate sexual humor. "You know, robbin' your own Batman, cranking the old-fashioned butter churn…"

Raj chortles and adds, "Shaking hands with the unemployed."

Leonard stifles his own snickering so that he can join in. "Test firing the Death Star."

Together, Raj, Leonard, and Howard declare, "That's no moon!"

They laugh, but as usual, Sheldon does not. He interrupts their merriment with a serious voice. "Gentlemen, please cease and desist. Can we not all act like mature adults just this once? We aren't children. We are grown men."

Chastened by his words, they all fall silent. Howard meant no offense, and he's sure that the other guys didn't either.

After a few seconds of quiet, Sheldon speaks again. "Thank you." Turning back to his cards, he adds, "Now, let's all get back to the serious business of playing Pokemon. Howard, my Pikachu uses Pika Punch on your Squirtle."

* * *

—-

* * *

Bernadette gathers her purse and says goodbye to Penny, but when she opens the door to leave, she finds herself face to face with Sheldon. Well, it's more like face to sternum.

"Good evening, ladies," he greets them both as he steps around Bernadette.

"Oh, hey Sheldon. I thought you left with Amy," says Penny.

"I told her that I needed to finish up here and that I would catch a ride home later. Speaking of which, I'll need a ride home later."

Penny shrugs. "Yeah, sure. So Amy's apartment is home to you now?"

"For the moment, yes, but I suspect we will move to my apartment soon enough. Speaking of which, please remind Leonard that the two of you need to gather your things and transfer them here posthaste."

"Hey, what if we don't want to move?"

It's Sheldon who shrugs this time. "I understand that the two of you are quite attached to me, but it's time to let me go."

"Are you serious? I was just referring to who should get the bigger apartment! You think _we_ are the ones who are attached to _you_?" Penny asks, her voice squeaking with incredulity.

"Yes, of course. Anyhow, that's not what brings me here."

Bernadette sees that Penny has not yet regained her voice, so she asks on behalf of them both. "What does bring you over here?"

He looks over to her. "I'm glad you're still here, Bernadette. I have a matter to discuss which would benefit from the collective wisdom of multiple members of the Council of Ladies."

Unsure of what to think of that, she is curious enough about it to want to stay. She closes the door and offers, "Do you want me to call Amy and have her come back?"

"No, not in this particular instance. Amy is the center point of what I need to speak with you about. In any case, I have not arrived at ladies' night without some appropriate contributions."

He lifts up a plastic grocery bag that he was holding behind his back. One by one, he sets the contents out onto the coffee table. "I've come bearing dark chocolate, some kind of fruity lip gloss, and a few celebrity gossip magazines. They didn't have a section for girly romance novels, so this stuff will have to suffice."

"Sheldon, this is incredibly sexist," Bernadette growls, and she swipes the dark chocolate and stuffs it in her purse. "Not all women feel the need to gossip about celebrities or read dirty novels."

"Yeah, seriously," Penny snaps, reaching for the lip gloss. "We're all different. Some of us don't like chocolate all that much." She turns back and snags the magazines as well. "Ooh, Angelina Jolie…"

Bernadette breaks off a small piece of the chocolate bar from inside her purse. She munches on it, and her voice is a bit garbled when she says, "You shouldn't stereotype women like that."

"You seem to like the chocolate. And Penny, don't you own that deplorable _Fifty Shades of Grey_ book?"

With a look of irritation, Penny mumbles, "That's not important."

He shrugs. "With how cranky you ladies are, perhaps I should've picked up some Midol and tampons instead."

"Sheldon!" they squeak in unison.

"I thought you were here for our help. Being rude is not the best way to go about that," Penny warns.

Offering her own piece of advice, Bernadette suggests, "You ought to consider talking about something else as fast as you can."

He takes a seat in the chair, and she and Penny sit side by side on the couch, both still shooting him looks of annoyance. "Very well," he says. "I'd rather cut to the chase anyhow. You see, Amy and I are planning to consummate our relationship soon. I thought it might be best to find out what women like by asking actual women."

"Are you kidding?" Penny exclaims. "You're here to ask for sex advice?"

"Wouldn't you feel more comfortable asking Leonard or the guys?" Bernadette adds, unsure of what to think about the impending conversation.

Sheldon scoffs. "I tried talking to Leonard. He recognized that I was asking about physical intimacy, but then he went off on a complete tangent and started talking about baseball and sailing." He waves his arm as if to sweep that prior discussion away.

Penny's face wrinkles with confusion. "He did? That doesn't sound right."

"Wait. Sheldon, what did he actually say?" Bernadette asks.

"Well, right away he started up on the unrelated topic of baseball, saying that I shouldn't try to steal third base without tagging second. And then he switched the subject again, talking about a little man in a canoe, and how one must get the permission of the captain before boarding the ship."

It takes Bernadette a few seconds to piece together Leonard's advice, and once she has done so, she has to stifle a snort. Next to her, Penny rests her forehead on her palm and says, "I can't believe he tried to explain things to you by using metaphors. He's known you for like a decade. Surely he should know better. This must be some kind of man thing."

Sheldon perks up. "Metaphors? You mean what he said had some meaning?"

"Didn't the guys ever tell you the baseball metaphor of what physical actions correspond to certain bases?" Bernadette answers with a question of her own.

"Oh. Now that you mention it, I do recall something like that. It's all a bit juvenile, if you ask me."

Penny picks up the explanation. "Second base is action above the waist and third base is down below. So he's trying to tell you… that you shouldn't invade Amy's southern territory until you've become king of her north."

"I'm not sure explaining a metaphor by using another metaphor is such a good idea," Bernadette warns.

"Yeah, but Sheldon actually knows _Game of Thrones_. It's a way better example than baseball."

Waving them both off, he says, "Fine, I get it. But what on Earth do intimate relations have to do with boating?"

Bernadette answers in a straightforward manner, figuring that someone should. "The little man in the canoe corresponds to female genitalia."

It doesn't take Sheldon long to understand. "Oh, I see. He meant the clitoris and labia. He could have just said that."

Hearing terms for sexual anatomy voiced by Sheldon is weirding Bernadette out. She doesn't know quite how to respond.

At least Penny seems to have something to say. "Um, yeah. He's suggesting you familiarize yourself with all of the important bits. I suspect that the permission of the captain thing is similar. Though, I suppose that one may also be referring to simply talking with Amy before you guys get it on. Either way, communication is good."

Sheldon nods and then tilts his head in a questioning manner. "I wonder why Leonard felt the need to go over all of that in such an odd way. It's not like I don't know how everything works. I'm not some sheltered simpleton. I know the basics."

With a skeptical expression, Penny says, "I'm sure you do, sweetie."

He elaborates, "I'm well aware of the need to stimulate the relevant nerves, and that it's wise to begin by testing out various erogenous zones, progressing from the distal regions to those involving mucocutaneous skin. Obviously one needs to initiate vascular engorgement to encourage the requisite plasma seepage and to increase the production of vasoactive intestinal polypeptide. Vaginal transudation is essential to aid in copulation. And that doesn't even begin to get into the topic of the pudendal nerve, its attendant dorsal nerve of the clitoris, and the hypothalamic–pituitary–adrenal axis."

Sheldon's intellectual recitation is likely to be accurate, but even Bernadette isn't that familiar with her own body. She recognizes the words 'clitoris' and 'stimulate', so she supposes he's good to go. Still, that might be the single most unsexy version of foreplay that has ever been uttered.

Penny's sarcasm indicates that she thinks so too. With a flat, unaffected voice she says. "Oh my God. Say it to Amy just like that. That'll be so hot."

"Yeah, it'll be a real panty-dropper," Bernadette adds.

He looks intrigued. "Do you think so?"

Penny wrinkles her nose and says, "Actually, yeah. Now that I think about it, she'd probably be enthralled. I mean, this _is_ Amy that we're talking about here."

Even though they were not being serious, that may very well be the case. Bernadette shrugs and says, "Like we told you before, women are all different. Amy is certainly… a unique one as well."

Sheldon smiles. "That she is."

Once again, she finds herself at a lack of words. Fortunately, Penny speaks up and says, "Okay, so with all of that mumbo-jumbo that you just said, it seems that you know everything that you need to know."

"I'd say he knows far more than he needs to know," Bernadette interjects.

Penny turns to her. "I know, right?" She faces Sheldon before continuing, "Anyway, that makes me wonder what it is that you expect us to be able to tell you."

So often a know-it-all who's full of bravado, it's an unusual sight to see a bashful Sheldon looking down at his knees. He sounds vulnerable as he admits, "I just want things to go well. I want Amy to be happy, and the entire situation makes me nervous."

That's so incredibly sweet that Bernadette has to look at him a second time to double check that those words really came out of Sheldon's mouth. He is poking the arm of Penny's chair, not looking back at either of them.

Penny is the first to reply. "Oh Sheldon, you're going to do fine. If you're worried, the best thing to do is talk to Amy. And the second best thing that you can do is to stop taking it all so seriously. Yeah, it's important, but sex is also kind of a ridiculous act if you think about it."

Bernadette nods. "I don't think I've ever had sex with Howie without bursting into a fit of giggles at least once."

Their words must be helping at least a little bit because he is now looking at them again. "I suppose that's something to consider."

With a quick bob of her head, Penny agrees. "Yup. And besides, it's not like Amy's going to be rating your performance. You're her first and only lover, so you're going to be both her best and her worst, irregardless, so just have fun. That girl isn't going anywhere. She loves you no matter what, even during those times when you're an insensitive jerk, wielding tabloids and making sexist PMS accusations."

Speaking of insensitive, in response to their helpful advice, Sheldon only says, "Irregardless isn't a proper word. And you're welcome for the gossip rags."

Penny sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Forget the grammar crap for once. You know what I meant. Relax, have fun, and enjoy yourself. If you do, then Amy will too."

With a thoughtful expression and a confident nod, Sheldon says, "Okay, I can do that."

He stands and starts walking towards the door with a purposeful stride. Just before he reaches it, he turns around and adds, "Thank you, both of you, for your assistance on this matter."

Bernadette tips her head in acknowledgement of his gratitude. Once again, she feels caught off guard by his behavior. This must be genuinely important to him. He doesn't tend to ask for help very often, much less acknowledge when he has received it.

With a little smirk, Penny says, "You know, I think of you as an annoying, lovable brother, and part of me would love to tease you about all of this, like, relentlessly." Her smirk fades to a more serious expression, and she continues, "But the truth is, you love Amy, you want her to be happy, and you seem determined to do your best at making sure that she is. And honey, that is all you really need."

* * *

 _—_


	28. Chapter 28

_—_

* * *

CHAPTER 28

* * *

There is something a bit sad about returning to her apartment all by herself. Amy kicks off her sneakers and then carefully arranges them in her designated footwear space.

It isn't the anticipation of a short time alone that bothers her. Amy is more than used to a solitary existence, and the fact that she and Sheldon each take the time to go out and do their own things seems like a healthy thing for a couple that is still trying to cobble together a workable living situation. While he is the undisputed love of her life, the man she admires more than anyone else on Earth, and the smartest person she has ever known, if they didn't do some things on their own, they would surely start to drive each other nuts. If Sheldon wants to stay and finish up a few games with his friends, then that's a good thing. It's not like they're joined at the hip.

Okay, so a more literal lack of a hip joining might be why she's feeling out of sorts. After finding Sheldon's love letter today and then her subsequent discussion with Penny and Bernadette, Amy has been hoping that this might finally be the right time for her and Sheldon to make her mother's fornication nightmares come true. Now that she has recovered from her injuries, and they have successfully generated a number of potential progeny with the aid of modern day reproductive assistance technology, there is nothing left to hold them back.

Well, there's nothing to stop them but the force of their own sexual inertia. She shakes off the brief fit of pessimism. It's not warranted. His bedtime is still two hours from now, and Sheldon spending a bit more time with his friends in no way negates the possibility that he intends to rock her world later.

The thought adds some more sweat to her already sweaty workout clothes. Yoga with the girls was not overly taxing, but weeks of inactivity have left her unaccustomed to even moderate activity. Amy makes her way over to her bedroom to gather clothes for after her shower.

Assessing the contents of her dresser drawers has never been so complicated. Her things are tucked away with precise tidiness, having been subjected to one of Sheldon's reorganizational binges. The new arrangement leaves some space for his own attire, though most of his clothes still remain at 4A. Truth be told, she isn't bothered at all by him meddling with her things. If organizing her apartment helps him feel more comfortable with their rapidly changing relationship dynamics, than she is more than happy to leave him to it. In any case, finding what she needs is simple. Deciding what to wear, however, is a different and much more puzzling issue.

She doesn't own much in the way of provocative garments. The one or two things she owns that even come close tend to be both uncomfortable and impractical. And in all likelihood, Sheldon wouldn't be enticed by that kind of thing anyway. If it's going to happen tonight, then she might as well be herself and dress in her normal nightgown. He has always seemed to be fond of her just the way she is, so there's no point in making herself uncomfortable. After spending her youth feeling constantly out of place, it still comes as a bit of a surprise that he feels that way, but her handsome genius has always been a bit of an odd duck.

He isn't likely to be back for at least an hour, perhaps more if they get very involved with their competition. Amy rushes through her shower routine nonetheless, figuring that she can calm her nerves with a bit of light reading when she gets out. It would be good for her.

After toweling off, she dresses and runs a brush through her hair. Looking in the mirror to do so, she is pleased to find that her mind is free of any negative thoughts about her body. Her brief dalliance with danger taught her to focus on the more important parts of her life. She has the love of the only man she wants, her body is healthy, and with Sheldon's assistance, she has several fertilized eggs stored in a lab somewhere, making her premature ovarian aging into nothing more than a mere inconvenience.

Some people might find it weird, but to Amy, it somehow feels right that their gametes first came to know one another in a petri dish. The idea of their potential offspring hanging out in a lab makes her smile. There is no guarantee that she will ever successfully have a child even if they choose to try, but the harsh reality is that no one else gets any such guarantees either.

Comfortable without a robe, she grabs a book off her nightstand and starts thumbing through the pages to find the spot where she left off. The layout of her apartment is ingrained in her spatial memory, so she navigates back to the living room while reading the first paragraph, unconcerned about bumping against any walls.

Amy glances away from the book to make sure that her rear end will land on the couch when she sits, and she is startled by the sight of Sheldon sitting in his spot on the other end. Her heart speeds up, and she reflexively brings up a hand to cover it. It takes her a few seconds to recover enough to speak, but she isn't really frightened, just surprised. Sheldon isn't scary at all.

"What are you doing back so soon? I figured you'd be gaming with your friends for quite a while. I would've been happy to wait for you if I'd known you would only need twenty minutes or so."

He is staring at her with an intensity that makes her feel shy. She looks down at herself, but doesn't see anything wrong with her nightgown, and since she brushed and flossed only a few minutes ago, she doubts that she's got any food stuck in her teeth.

"I didn't stay to play more games with the guys," he says. "I stayed to ask Penny and Bernadette a few questions, questions about you and me."

Amy stifles her fleeting moment of bashfulness. It's not a useful emotion, and it's completely irrational. He's only Sheldon. She sits next to him, close enough to feel the heat from his body, but not touching him in any way. "Is something wrong? Do you want to tell me about it?"

He licks his lips, which makes her face feel warm again, but it's not due to shyness this time. "Everything is fine—more than fine. I merely wanted a female perspective."

"I'm female."

His stare drifts from her eyes down her body and then back up again. "I'm aware of that." She sees him gulp before he continues, "Um, I wanted to see if they had any advice for me… about physical intimacy."

Oh. Amy feels her eyebrows rising. "And did they have anything interesting to tell you?"

He shrugs. "In a way. They told me not to be nervous, that I should talk to you, and that everything would be fine."

The familiar advice makes Amy smile. "They told me much the same thing earlier this evening. I think we may have ourselves a little fan club."

He mirrors her smile. "It's enough to make me glad that we're here and not at my apartment."

She nudges his shoulder. "I concur. Privacy can be a good thing."

After a brief, silent staring contest, Sheldon admits, "I don't know what I'm doing. I always have a plan, but this time I don't, at least nothing beyond starting this conversation."

She can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing for these particular circumstances, but she is sure of one thing. "I guess that must be pretty unsettling for you."

He tilts his head. "I'm not so much unsettled as I am uncertain. It's impossible not to be nervous when I don't know what the correct course of action is."

"I'm just as lost at this as you are," she commiserates. It would be nice to sound reassuring, but her voice is becoming shaky. Maybe Sheldon won't notice. She clears her throat, but it doesn't help. "I'm sure that we'll do okay."

Sheldon squints at her. "Your voice sounds funny."

There's no benefit to denying it, so she might as well be honest. "I'm nervous too."

He takes her hand, which is trembling a little, much like her vocal cords. His warm palm is soothing, and after a deep breath or two, she can feel herself calming down. Touching him helps.

"I know you've never exactly been comfortable with touching," she says. "That makes it difficult for me to know how this is going to work."

Lifting their entwined hands, he wiggles them in front of her face. "I've been comfortable touching you for a long time now." His voice becomes more of a mumble when he adds, "If anything, I was too comfortable."

She is having a hard time believing that. "Sheldon, you used to choreograph our interactions in absurd detail. Our anniversary make-out had more stipulations than any other scheduled contact we've ever had."

"Yes, that's a perfect example. You're misunderstanding, though. Those restrictions weren't to avoid contact with you. They were to keep me from touching you too much. The more kissing we did and the more physical contact we had over the years, the more difficult it was to stay under control. It would've been so easy to get carried away, and I wasn't ready to admit to myself that getting carried away like that is perfectly appropriate when it comes to you."

"Oh." Her tiny exclamation feels like an inadequate response to his admission, but it's all that her brain can manage. "Oh."

They sit in silence again for a moment, continuing to hold hands. Amy tries to think of what she should do next. Perhaps Sheldon is pondering the same issue. Eventually, she manages to come up with something that might make him feel a little bit less nervous.

"Do you remember what I told you when you were unsure about learning how to drive last year?"

"Of course. You told me that most adults are stupid, and yet most of them still drive. Given that fact, I should keep in mind that if stupid people can do it, then I would be able to master it soon enough."

"That's right. I suspect that sexual intimacy is much the same. Just about any idiot on Earth can do it. There's no reason for us to worry about something that even stupid people engage in with ease." The thought makes her feel better, and she can see him start to smile as well.

"You do make a fine point, Amy Farrah Fowler." His smile widens to a goofy grin.

That grin gives her a welcome surge of confidence. She takes a deep breath and tugs on his hand. "I'm no expert, but perhaps we ought to move to the bedroom."

He nods without hesitation, and they stand together and walk to her room. There's no one else here, of course, but he closes the door behind them anyway.

Facing her big bed isn't daunting at all. They've slept in here almost every night for the past seven weeks, so at least this step feels familiar. Instead of lying down, however, she sits on the edge of the bed, turned to the side with one leg folded up under her and the other dangling to the ground. Sheldon sits next to her, mirroring her pose. He is so close to her that his knee presses up against her own.

This time he is the one who speaks with an unsteady tone. "You're better now, right? This is okay? I know it's been a week since the egg retrieval, but that was invasive."

She takes both of his hands in hers. "I'm fine. It did take several days, but I feel back to normal now." Squeezing his hands she adds, "Make that better than normal. I feel great."

He returns the gentle squeeze with one of his own. Both his mirrored position and this copied action spark an idea in her mind of how to proceed. It would even help solve one persistent problem that has been lingering in her thoughts. Amy has been concerned about how to take this new step when she is still so uncertain of what Sheldon might be comfortable with.

She bites her lip. "I have a plan, if you're amenable."

Sheldon perks up at the idea. "That would be most welcome. Complete spontaneity is for unordered, lesser minds."

Encouraged, she says, "I know that you explained how you have become accustomed to touching me, but I also know that you have done so only after years of touch aversion."

He gives her a reluctant looking nod, and she wonders if he's ashamed. She continues, "It's okay, Sheldon. It means a lot to me that you've found that I am an exception to that. What I'm trying to tell you is that while you were adjusting to that realization, I was pushing the issue when perhaps I shouldn't have. Anyway, the last thing that I want to happen tonight is for you to feel pressured in any way."

"I don't," he insists, and the strength of his instantaneous reply is reassuring. "This is what I want."

The statement touches her, and she has to clear her throat lest emotion start to muddle her words. "That's good. This is what I want too. And, um, I also want… no, I also _need_ to feel sure that any step we take tonight is one that you are fully content with."

"Very well. How do you suggest we accomplish that?"

"With a little game of mimicry. You decide how you would like to begin, and whatever action you take, I will then do the same. In this way, you can decide what you are comfortable with while still keeping in mind that whatever you choose will be mirrored back to you. I expect it should make for an informative learning experience."

Sheldon lets go of her hands and rubs his palms on his thighs. It is probably a practical gesture rather than a nervous one because his hands were growing unquestionably sweaty. In any case, the movement draws Amy's eyes to his lap, and it becomes clear that at least one part of him is voting an enthusiastic yes to her suggestion.

His voice sounds hoarse when he says, "But what if I do something that you don't want, or if I don't do something that you do want?"

"I can't think of a way that you would touch me that I wouldn't want, but if that somehow happens, I promise that I will stop you." She shrugs, "And as for what I do want, I'm too new at this to even know. It doesn't worry me. You're a genius, and over the course of our experiment here, I bet you will start to figure everything out."

As always, Sheldon looks bolstered by the reference to his own intelligence. He looks her body up and down and says, "I'm not sure where to start."

She smiles. "Start with something simple. There is no wrong choice."

He stretches his unsteady hand towards her, and strokes her cheek with the back of his fingers. Instead of stopping with that simple motion, he extends his index finger and uses it to softly trace the outline of her arched eyebrow.

By the time he finishes and pulls his hand back, she can no longer detect any jitteriness in his movement. She remembers finding the same thing a short time ago. Contact with his skin settled her nerves unlike anything else. Taking her turn, she brushes his cheek and then outlines his brow. There's a slight roughness to his cheek from his day's worth of facial hair growth. It feels ridiculous in proportion to the situation, but even this simple indicator of his maleness is already enough to make her heart beat faster.

She feels a lot less silly when she notices that Sheldon's respiration rate is increasing. He doesn't hesitate to make his next move. This time he follows the curve of her ear with his index finger, and she finds that this body part is more sensitive than she would have expected. When he reaches her earlobe, the rest of his fingers join in, caressing with a light touch down the length of her neck. It almost makes her shiver, but she fights the impulse, wanting to avoid startling him away from his chosen path. He moves with focused intent, not stopping until he finishes sweeping his fingers along the protruding area of her collarbone.

Happy to return the gesture, Amy watches his face while her hand moves. She is enjoying the contact, but she soon finds her access blocked by the cotton of Sheldon's t-shirts. The scoop neck of Amy's nightgown provided plenty of space for him to maneuver without undressing her, but his shirts are more restrictive. She pauses at his collar, unsure of what to do.

Thankfully, Sheldon decides for her, and it is even the decision she would most prefer. He looks a bit bashful while he pulls both of the shirts over his head, but she can sense an eagerness in him as well. Amy ogles his broad shoulders and the cute little bit of hair on his chest. While she knows that she he is only supposed to mirror his movements, she finds herself wanting to run her fingers over that hair. Unable to resist completely, she allows her palm to make incidental contact with the area while she follows the line of his collarbone with her fingers.

When she sits back, he no longer seems modest about having his shirts off. She wonders if she should mirror his shirt removal by pulling her arms out of her nightgown, but before she can decide, Sheldon is already on the move again. He leans in close to her face and runs his finger over the bend in her nose. Amy has never been happy with this part of her body, but he seems to be enthralled. Sliding his hands over to each side of her head, he starts making little circular patterns against her temples with his thumbs while his palms cup her skull. He replaces the spot where his finger traversed with his own nose, gently rubbing their two noses together like he's some rare Californian Eskimo. She enjoys the feeling of his forehead resting against hers, and she has a brief, fleeting memory of Penny's explanation of the third eye chakra.

While their noses get acquainted, she can feel his shallow, rapid breathing near her lips. It is tempting to close the short distance to kiss him, but she has promised to let him take the lead. Her patience is rewarded soon enough, and Sheldon himself moves in to brush his lips against hers. The contact is so gentle that it makes her lips tingle. It doesn't stay gentle for long, though, because once her mouth opens a tiny bit to facilitate her increased respiratory needs, he presses in further to venture forth with his tongue. The feeling of him penetrating her lips is the most intense thing she has experienced with him so far, and she feels her endocrine system humming with anticipation for more.

Too soon, he pulls back, and Amy has to take a moment to calm her panting breaths so that she can take her own turn. When she reaches for his head, cupping the cranium that holds that brilliant mind of his in her hands, she feels a reverence for his intellect—forever her favorite part of him. It occurs to her that perhaps he chose this action for precisely the same reason.

Making a mess of his hair is already a delight, but everything gets even better when she switches from rubbing their noses together to initiating a new kiss. This time Sheldon doesn't even wait for her to pull back before he starts in on his next turn. While he is still kissing her, he removes her hands from his hair to rest at her sides. Then he slides his hands up her arms, capturing the short cotton sleeves of her nightgown in his grasp. When he makes his way back down, he takes the sleeves with him.

Amy can feel the air from the room across her exposed breasts and how the material of her nightgown bunches up near her waist. Sheldon breaks their kiss and leans back to where he can surely see her body. She resists the prudish impulse to cross her arms over her chest, and with the way that he is no longer looking at her face, she suspects that she needn't feel all that self-conscious about what she's got anyway.

When he reaches for her again, she expects him to go straight for a breast, but he rests his palm near the center of her chest instead, where he can no doubt feel her heart trying to pound its way out of her sternum. He glances up from his exploration long enough to smile at her, but his attention soon drifts back down.

He slides his hand over and gently cups her left breast. She would've thought that his first impulse would be grabby, but he seems to be smart enough to be careful. Looking up at her again, he licks his bottom lip and whispers, "I'm not sure how to do this. Is that good?"

Amy nods vigorously to indicate her enthusiasm. Of course it's good. Hell, it's great. It gets even better when he starts exploring her nipple with his thumb. At her inadvertent gasp, he asks again, "Is this okay?"

"This is so much better than okay," she chokes out.

Her mind is spinning so much that it takes her a second to realize that Sheldon has tipped her back onto the bed. Perhaps in the interest of symmetry, he has switched hands to explore her other breast. Lying down leaves him right near her face, and it is a quick trip for him to kiss her lips. When he starts slowly planting other kisses down her neck, the direction he's headed causes Amy to wonder if she might get to experience the unimaginable sensation of his mouth on her chest.

In short order, he does precisely that. She tangles her fingers in the mussed hair of his head and hopes that she will maintain enough presence of mind not to pull on the soft strands. At her breast, Sheldon continues to press gentle kisses against her skin, and she gasps when he arrives at her nipple. Inside her brain, she is screaming at him to use his tongue.

"jatlIj vIlo'!" her mind sputters to itself in Klingon. _(1)_

When it actually happens, when she feels his tongue on her sensitive skin, Amy starts to wonder if she might have said that out loud by accident. If so, then she probably ruined their Klingon distraction strategy forever. That's fine with her. Sexual repression can ghoS ghe''or. _(2)_

It's a little bit disturbing that her brain seems to be chugging along in Klingon. She doesn't have to worry about it for long, though, because her mind goes all but blank with pleasure when Sheldon's oral nipple caresses begin to involve suction.

It isn't until he pauses long enough to switch sides that Amy has a brief flash of intellect again. It will soon be her turn to act, but she doesn't really want him to stop. Twixt her nethers, Amy is throbbing with the desire for more. Sheldon is balancing himself on one elbow, and with his free hand, he is nudging her nightgown lower and lower, exposing the flesh of her belly, allowing him to examine it with the light touch of his fingertips.

Eventually, he stops his ministrations and shifts his body back up. Amy misses his mouth on her chest, but she has a new source of stimulation to contemplate. Lying on his side, he is pressed up against her body, and she can feel the unmistakable protrusion of Sheldon's aroused genitalia against her hip and thigh. The compulsion to wiggle against him is strong, and she gives in and briefly rubs her hip against him.

At Sheldon's happy gasp and reciprocal thrust, Amy curses herself for the restriction of her plan. She turns to her side and encourages him to lie flat on the bed. It's not like it's some great hardship to take the time to explore his sexy pectorals. As much as possible, she repeats the same acts that he performed on her. There is no breast tissue that can be cupped in her hand, but she kisses his chest and tests the sensitivity of his largely vestigial man nipples.

Though she has never put her tongue on his body before tonight, his skin somehow tastes familiar. It's not something she can fathom ever getting tired of. Thankfully, she can sense Sheldon's obvious enjoyment of her touches. With her hand pressed up against his chest, she can feel his heart hammering and his lungs battling to supply his body with enough oxygen. Another compelling indicator of his pleasure, he has turned his lower body towards her, and every once in a while she can feel him grind himself against her hip again.

By the time she finishes, he is a ragged, aroused mess every bit as much as she feels. He looks at her with dilated pupils, the blue of his irises down to a thin circle of color. It's his turn to decide what to do with her, and Amy waits impatiently while he thinks it over.

It doesn't take him long to decide. Facing each other on their sides, he reaches for her poor, beleaguered nightgown and starts tugging. Whether it's accidental or intentional, he takes her underwear along with it. The engrossed expression on his face has her leaning towards intentional.

For as confident as he has acted, he sounds a bit vulnerable all of a sudden when he meets her eyes and whispers a request. "Show me what to do?"

With a demure bob of her head, Amy lies flat on her back. Sheldon stays on his side, but she feels him move as close to her as she thinks he could possibly get. His obvious enthusiasm for all of this has made things easier for her at every step.

After taking a deep breath, she follows his request, bending her knees and spreading her legs to make room. She always thought that she would feel hesitant or reserved at a moment like this, but the swamping feelings of lust seem to have effectively quashed any such concerns.

He hovers his hand over her pelvis, and she happily accepts the assistance. Their combined fingers make contact with the abundant wetness between her legs, and the pleasure of his large fingers brushing against all of her sensitive areas makes her gasp out some meaningless sound. She directs his hand into the motion that she most prefers in the region that she most prefers it, and within moments she can feel an empty, desperate sensation growing inside of her.

Release isn't far away, so Amy removes her hand so that she can focus her concentration on the fact that it is Sheldon who is doing this to her. Unfortunately, just after she stops her movements, he does too. He doesn't pull his hand away, though. Instead he starts gently poking around.

Oh. Of course he would want to scope out her interior layout. Having no complaints about that idea, Amy figures it's best to help him out again, so she pushes her middle finger alongside his, allowing them to penetrate her body in unison. In her aroused state, it isn't the least bit difficult, and she enjoys the pressure of his larger digit so much that she encourages him to tuck another one in to move with it. The empty feeling is gone, but the desperate desire remains. With her last remaining bit of sense, Amy maneuvers the base of his thumb to politely point out that he can still make contact with the previous region at the same time.

Her breathing has morphed into a series of gasps, and Sheldon's mouth is right next to hers for every one of them, as it has been the entire time. He has been alternating between staring at his vanishing fingers and watching her face. At the moment, she can see that he is fixated on her eyes, observing her in her complete lack of control.

Her overtaxed neurons cause her to call out, "baQa'… baQa'!" _(3)_

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, she finds herself clawing at his forearm and tensing with the convulsive force of orgasm. It is the most powerful one she has ever felt, having not been self-generated for once, and she instinctively closes her knees around his arm and clamps down on his fingers so hard that she can only hope she isn't hurting him.

When she regains cognition enough to open her eyes again, Sheldon is still staring at her from a few short inches away. With pink cheeks and a surprised, pleasant expression, he kisses her lips and carefully reclaims his fingers.

He looks very proud of himself, but she also detects a hint of growing uncertainty. She wonders what he could possibly be doubting at a moment like this until she hears him ask, "Um, does that mean we're done?"

Not quite verbal yet, she meets his eyes and slowly shakes her head with a decisive no. He must be kidding. They are most certainly not done. His throat bobs with a strong gulp, and she wonders if it's the fact that she is eyeing him like prey that is making him feel unsettled.

With a gentle shove to his shoulder, she directs him to lie on his back. Her voice sounds raspy, but she manages to say, "It's my turn to repeat your actions, remember?" She smiles before correcting herself, "Well, the analogous equivalent."

His wide-eyed, unblinking gaze does not waver while she unbuttons and unzips his pants. For some reason that she can't quite articulate, his innocent apprehensiveness is incredibly sexy to her. Perhaps it is because she has known and shared the same feelings tonight, and who else but her Sheldon could ever understand?

He lifts his hips and helps her slide off his pants. They have to be more careful with his white underwear, caught as it is on his engorged penis. Having just been through a similar experience, she knows what it's like to be so suddenly exposed in front of the only person whose opinion really matters, so after she tosses his clothes away, she smiles to show her approval. From the top of his ingenious head to the tips of his long, slender toes, he is everything that she could ever want.

To help indicate her admiration, she runs her index finger from the base of his phallus to the tip, using a featherlight motion that is still enough to make him squirm. It seems like a damnable shame that they wasted five years when she could've been playing with this the whole time. The thought makes her smile again, even though she knows that it's not entirely true. They weren't ready until now, and it wouldn't have been the same years ago anyway.

"Very nice," she whispers, wanting to make sure that he doesn't misunderstand her amusement.

Moving from off of her knees, she settles herself at his side to match his previous pose. She hugs his torso briefly before remembering to follow his earlier lead.

She raises an eyebrow and makes her request. "Show me what to do?"

Ever since he admitted to the practice seven weeks ago, Amy has been fascinated by the thought of Sheldon pleasuring himself. She wants to see him wrap his hand around himself almost as much as she wants to get her own hands on him.

He has nodded his agreement, but makes no move to begin. His hesitation starts to worry her until she recalls what he must be waiting for. As he did for her, she holds out her hand in invitation.

Any hesitance he had seems to evaporate in that instant. He palms the back of her hand and directs them both to grip his straining penis. His skin is warm and surprisingly soft considering the swollen state of things. With his guidance, she moves her hand up and down in a slow, rhythmic fashion, and she enjoys the unfamiliar slide of skin over hardness. He has her applying a bit more pressure than she would have guessed at, and he seems to prefer that they concentrate their strokes over the upper half of his shaft.

As they move, his hand engulfs hers such that it looks like he is the one performing the action. While she is fond of the sight, she isn't surprised when he pulls his hand away to leave her to it. His eyes were closed before, but now that it's only her, his gaze is locked on her pumping hand.

She has come to understand his earlier inclination to watch her face. His face and neck are flushed pink and his forehead is wet with sweat. When she does something particularly right, he gasps and she can see the strain in the muscles of his neck. In addition to that, she can feel him harden even further in her hand, a process that fascinates her.

Amy's attention is drawn from his face when Sheldon tugs her hand away. He guides her down and shows her how to gently fondle his testicles. That's especially interesting to her because she would have had no clue how to touch him in that sensitive area. In fact, she would've avoided it completely since it's a spot that she was only aware of as causing pain. In any case, it's a brief side journey, and he soon directs her back to his preferred stimulation.

While she continues to stroke him, Amy returns to her previous observations of his face. She feels privileged to get to see him like this, in this way that no one else ever does. It's a sight she once convinced herself that she would never see.

Jarring her from her thoughts, Sheldon jerks his head up all of a sudden, and she can see his wide-eyed look of panic. Under her fingers, she can feel that it's far too late to stop now. He must have come to the same conclusion because even though he voices a little squeak, he reaches down and wraps his hand around hers again, ensuring that she won't actually stop, not that she would have. In fact, he is encouraging her to pull on him more rapidly instead. A split second later, Sheldon starts bucking his hips against their combined strokes, and he twists his body towards her, ejaculating all over their hands as well as his own lower abdomen.

She suspects that he did not intend for their evening to end in quite this way, but she is fascinated by the feeling of his orgasm pulsating under her hand and the sight of it exploding out of him. It goes on for long enough that she also gets a chance to peek at his scrunchy face of pleasure.

Undeterred by the mess, Amy leans in even closer to him to kiss his cheek and his lips after he finishes. While he catches his breath, she wonders how he will react to the situation. As for her, she can't stop smiling at every flash of memory that flits through her mind. She feels so absurdly light and happy that she can't stop herself from starting to giggle with giddy glee.

It's probably the wrong thing to do, given his little misfire. She hopes that he won't feel insulted, but she just can't help it. The amusement is beyond her control. After several long seconds, he turns to her, and she is relieved to be met by his growing smile and his own amused eyes.

As new and wonderful as all of the other experiences of this evening have been, she is delighted to find herself graced with one final marvel. Sheldon joins in with her, filling the room with his own rarely heard laughter.

* * *

 _(1) Use your tongue!_

 _(2) Go to hell._

 _(3) Oh, my God… Oh, my God!_

* * *

 _—_

* * *

Note: Dirty, dirty, dirty.

Did anyone spot the brief _Firefly/Serenity_ reference or were you all too distracted?

There's one last chapter to go. No fair guessing what happens next...


	29. Chapter 29

—

* * *

CHAPTER 29

* * *

Apartment 314 technically belongs to Amy. Her name is on the lease, the furnishings are hers, she pays the rent, and Sheldon has his own living area ten miles away. These facts in no way deter him from treating her place as his own.

After awakening early on Saturday morning, Sheldon begins to make himself at home once again. When he showers, he helps himself to her girly smelling shower gel, and when he brushes his teeth, he doesn't hesitate to make use of her toothpaste. He has his own toothbrush, of course, and he is careful to squeeze the tube of toothpaste from the bottom. While he may be invading her living space, he isn't a savage.

Right on schedule, he progresses to his breakfast preparations, raiding her cabinet for cereal, her refrigerator for milk, and her cable television for this week's episodes of _Doctor Who_. All the while, he elects to leave Amy peacefully sleeping in bed. He learned many weeks ago that it is unwise to wake her up too early on the weekend.

Somewhere in the middle of the third commercial break of the second episode, he hears stirring sounds from the other room. Her footsteps are quiet down her short hallway, and he swallows hard, bracing himself for what she might have to say to him this morning. She doesn't even poke her head into the room when she walks by, though. In fact, she doesn't waver from her path at all, and the only sound that comes from her mouth is a breathy yawn.

Perhaps she is still too groggy to notice what he has done.

Fifteen minutes later, she does enter the room, sporting wet hair and a fluffy white robe. She takes a seat right next to him on the couch, and she folds her little arms over her chest while raising an eyebrow at him. He turns off the television and sets the remote aside, preparing himself once again.

Amy stares at him, not saying a single word, so he decides he'd best be the one to begin. "Good morning, Amy. Did you know that you've been sleeping through a truly classic episode of _Doctor Who_?"

"Really? That's what you want to talk about? I would think you should have something much more important that you need to say to me."

He clears his throat. Of course she isn't going to make this easy for him. Sometimes she is the most impossible woman. "Did you have something specific in mind?"

She purses her lips and says, "I would think it should be quite obvious."

"Well, it sounds like you aren't upset about me watching this particular show without you, but I'm not sure it's a wise idea to try to read your mind. The fact is that you could be thinking about any number of things. Maybe you'd like to talk about how well I've optimized the storage space in your closet, for example."

Amy shakes her head no. He tries again. "Perhaps you were planning to eat cereal for breakfast, and you've noticed the empty box and milk carton in your recycling bin."

"No, that's not it either."

"I see. Well, it's also possible that you'd like to discuss last night. This seems like a fine time for you to tell me how I'm an amazing lover who has brought you to heights of ecstasy that you've never known before."

Their first encounter may have been less than optimal, but she certainly hadn't voiced any complaints. In fact, he doesn't think he has ever seen her that happy before. For that matter, he doesn't ever recall being that happy himself, either.

His most recent guess makes her grin, but her voice sounds solemn when she looks into his eyes and says, "Sheldon, you are an amazing lover who has brought me to heights of ecstasy that I have never known before."

He bobs his head. Of course he is. Amy is still smiling when she continues, "But that's not what I think you and I have to discuss."

She's definitely going to make things difficult. He's sure of it now.

With one arched eyebrow, she slowly crosses her right leg over her left. "So I was half asleep this morning while going through my morning ablutions," she begins.

Holding up her left hand, she starts wiggling a finger while she adds, "Though I was busy soaping myself in the shower, I was not so comatose as to miss the reflection of light off my shiny new piece of jewelry."

Stuffing aside any thoughts of Amy soaping herself, Sheldon knows he should be paying attention to the engagement ring issue. "Oh, that. It seems you were correct that everything this morning is quite obvious."

"Is that so?" She puts her hand back in her lap and continues, "I don't see how. With this ring appearing on my finger overnight, I'm not sure if I should jump to conclusions. I've been told that I do that, you see. Anyway, perhaps it might be a secret decoder ring."

He sighs, recognition sweeping over him that she is going to make use of the same deflection method that he just demonstrated. She continues, "If not that, maybe this ring is a token of friendship, somewhat analogous to an ornate friendship bracelet."

"That's not what it is."

"Mmm. I suppose it could also be one of your superhero props. Perhaps you intend to see if it will bring me powers like the Green Arrow."

Ugh, why does she always get these things wrong? He sputters, "Amy, don't be ridiculous. That's the Green Lantern. Besides, it is obviously an engagement ring. It's got a diamond on it, and it isn't even green."

"An engagement ring?" He sees her wide eyes and open mouth, but there's no way that she is genuinely surprised. She knew about the ring, so it seems more probable that she's teasing him. He becomes certain of it when she adds, "That's funny, I don't remember any kind of proposal. This is a not so subtle hint of your marital intentions, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's certainly a unique way of going about things. Is there a reason why you didn't simply ask me?"

Sheldon sighs. "From what I can tell, there is no such thing as asking that question in a simple fashion. In books, television, and all forms of media, proposals are full of sappy sentimentality and romantic drivel. That isn't me."

He isn't sure why his confession makes her smile again. "I'm not so sure about that," she says.

Folding his arms over his chest in defiance, he insists, "Well I am. For example, it didn't even occur to me to bring you flowers when you were injured and in the hospital. That's a common social convention, as your mother later reminded me. Admittedly, I fail to see how cutting a living thing and bringing you its corpse so that you can watch it wither and decay is supposed to aid anyone in healing. But still, that's not the point."

"Okay, what is the point, then? You've clearly decided that you'd like to get married. How is that not romantic?"

"Marriage isn't some melodramatic flight of fancy, Amy. Romance is baffling to me, but commitment, homeostasis, and legal constraints are worth striving for. Hence, marriage."

She cocks her head and stares at him in silence. After a minute or so he cracks. "You're going to make me ask you, aren't you?"

With a slow nod, she smirks. "I am. You must be pretty confident of my answer for you to have taken the liberty of putting it on for me in advance."

His confidence had been sky high, but her teasing is starting to make him sweat a bit. "You wouldn't actually turn me down, would you?"

Her grin widens. "If you don't ask, how will you ever find out?"

After taking a deep, fortifying breath, he concedes. "Very well. As you wish."

Twisting his body to face her more completely, he takes her ringed hand. "Amy, I'm not a typical man, nor are you a typical woman, so would you not deny us both the honor of no longer being merely my girlfriend, and indeed avoid disagreeing with me about the fact that we should no longer procrastinate our inevitable marital union?"

Her squinty eyes and speechlessness don't tell him much. This could be one of those moments when she is struck silent in awe of his intellect. Or perhaps it's something else. Her answer is slow in coming, and of course it isn't a simple yes or no.

"I'm not sure that I can parse that grammatical train wreck enough to know if an affirmative answer would mean what I think it would mean. Try again, Sheldon."

He can't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Fine. You know, you are truly impossible at times. I suppose there is no reason to let that stop me now, though."

Clearing his throat, he stops sputtering and manages to ask her using a serious voice. "Amy, will you marry me, engulfing us both in the comfort of numerous contractual obligations?"

This time Amy responds by wrapping her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him in one of her python-style hugs. "Yes! You know I will." His arms are trapped, but he is able to wiggle his hands and bend his elbows enough to pat at her hips in return.

When she releases him, she grabs his cheeks instead, pulling him down at the same time as she leans up to plant a kiss on his lips. The kiss lasts long enough that he is starting to wonder how best to go about suggesting some fornication to mark the occasion.

Amy pulls back but shifts her grabby hands down to take hold of his. "See? You're not devoid of romance. You only require someone who is smart enough to recognize the particular way that you choose to express it."

She must be crazy. Maybe her mother never had her tested. "Sheldon Cooper doesn't do romance."

For some reason, those words make her giggle. "You just did. You gave me this beautiful ring, and your proposal was both memorable and touching."

Her kind words make him squirm. He in no way intended to be sappy. Thinking back on his phrasing, he can't recall anything other than a logical recitation of factual information. But then again, maybe she can appreciate simple truths in ways that other people cannot. If she wants to call it romance, perhaps he shouldn't quibble.

"I can see your skepticism, Sheldon. But even before you proposed, your first notable action of the day was when you turned off _Doctor Who_ to talk to me. I know how ingrained your habits are and how attached you are to your schedule. And I'm not only talking about the show this morning. You've been uprooting your life for the past month and a half, not to mention the past five years. Recently you've been staying in my apartment in spite of the fact that you must miss the familiarity of 4A. That tells me that you're here because you think that you would miss me even more."

She moves a hand onto each of his cheeks again and leans her forehead against his. Her words all ring true to him, so he tries to nod. He can't really move very much with his face smooshed between her two hands, though.

She hasn't stopped talking. "The choices and changes you've made for me tell me everything that I need to know. So you are welcome to leave the flowers to the earth, I would abhor it if you started talking like some male lead in a maudlin movie, and we both know that we would land in a heap on the floor if you tried to sweep me off my feet. I am a practical woman, and I am perfectly happy with you just as you are."

This time he is the one who closes the distance to kiss her. If she is able to consider practicality and logic as some form of romance, then she has found herself the right man for the job. He pulls her in closer, and the tie on her fuzzy robe starts to loosen.

The proximity of her body reminds him of the previous evening's most recent change. He stops kissing her long enough to ask, "Amy, how does a practical man of science best suggest a morning of pair-bonded copulation? It would result in the release of dopamine, activating the reward centers of the brain that enhance our interpersonal attachment, and it's good for the cardiovascular system at the same time."

Her eyes widen and her cheeks start to turn pink. "Um, what you just said? That request will do nicely."

Amy stands up quickly, every bit as fast he does. Pleased to find that she is sold on the idea and that she is exhibiting similar degrees of enthusiasm, he takes her hand and starts walking towards her room. Her previous assurance that she would not want to be carried is a relief. This is no time to be thwarted by another injury to either of their persons.

Last night, her room was lit with the muted golden hue of her indoor lighting. Even with her curtains closed, today her room is lit by the white light of the sun that sneaks around the edges.

Yesterday night's encounter has given him a great deal of confidence in spite of the fact that he finished a little sooner than he had intended. Maybe it was flawed, but they both had a fine time regardless. Now that he knows how to touch her and she knows how to touch him, there's a lot less mystery between them, and he doesn't feel even the slightest bit of uncertainty. Whatever modesty he may have had the previous evening flew away forever at the moment she first wrapped her little hand around his—

Sheldon shuts down the memory before it can even get started. He has no regrets about last night, but he doesn't want to get too far ahead of her, especially if it might increase the risk of another unintentional misfire.

Amy stands next to him near the edge of her bed, and as far as he can tell, she doesn't have a speck of nervousness left either. She licks her lips and runs her finger down the center of his t-shirt covered chest. "You're going to miss the end of _Doctor Who_."

"That's okay. I can find that episode online later. But we ought to set up your DVR to record these kinds of things. It's good to broaden your entertainment horizons."

A smile grows on her face. "I'm all for broadening my horizons, but there are other forms of entertainment that interest me more at this time."

That's too bad. She really shouldn't miss out on the joys of this unparalleled form of sci-fi. "Are you sure? It is an excellent show."

"I'm very sure."

At that, she stands on her toes and wraps her arms up around his shoulders. It doesn't take a genius to know that he should lean down for her. When he does, she kisses his lips, swiping at him a little bit with her tongue. As she pulls away, she adds one brief suck to his bottom lip.

Her voice sounds breathy when she says, "I would vastly prefer some Doctor Cooper viewing over _Doctor Who_."

Oh. He has no desire to argue against that. "I see. In a similar sense, I must admit that I would prefer a private showing of Doctor Farrah Fowler."

"Well, you can't look me up on the internet later, that's for sure. I think you've made a wise choice." Reaching for the fuzzy tie that loosely holds her robe closed, she adds, "This must be your lucky day."

Sheldon swallows against the sudden dryness in his throat and watches her ditch the robe, revealing that she did not get dressed at all after her shower. Her complete lack of modesty is welcome, as is the fact that he won't have to figure out how to get her out of a bra. Those contraptions are bizarre.

"Are you okay?" she asks, jarring him from his contemplation of the curve of her hips and thighs. He must have been staring at her for too long without doing anything.

Instead of offering her a verbal response, he decides to demonstrate exactly how okay he is. In one quick motion, he lifts both of his shirts off over his head, and then in a much more gentle fashion, he pulls her against his body so that he can feel the warmth of her chest against his.

When she unbuckles his belt and starts removing his pants, the action reminds him of what he has hidden away in his pocket. He never got far enough yesterday, but today he should ask.

"Amy, I borrowed some condoms from Leonard's room. I don't know if you want me to use them or not."

His pants are around his ankles, and Amy seems to be having a great time touching his rear end over his underwear. He would prefer that she continue the motions, but she pauses at his question. Her head is right under his chin, so he can't see her until she leans back.

"Disease is a complete non-issue for us. And this being a week after egg retrieval, there is zero risk of pregnancy." She shrugs and starts fondling his buttocks again, although this time she tucks her hands past his waistband to make contact with his bare skin. "I'd say it's up to you. I'm comfortable with whatever you decide."

Using one would surely make things tidier, and he has heard that they reduce sensation, which might also be a useful thing. Given the choice, however, it's an easy no. He is more than tired of trying to dull any of these feelings with Amy, and the faster his heart races, the less he finds himself caring about any kind of mess. Besides, when he explored the area with his fingers yesterday, he could not stop imagining the exact same sensation on the most sensitive area of his body.

His thoughts are spiraling away again, aided by the enticing rubbing of her hands. He can't even think about Star Trek anymore to calm down. She annihilated that chaste distraction by muttering Klingonese pleas to a non-existent deity in the midst of her climax yesterday. He hopes he won't blush every time he watches an episode in the future.

When she begins tugging on his waistband, he carefully pulls her hands away and says, "Um, not quite yet."

Never one to be sloppy, Amy must have taken the time to make up the bed this morning. He has to yank down the comforter as well as the sheets to make a space for them, and she raises an eyebrow at his abrupt movements.

She lies flat with her head on a pillow, and he can't think of a single reason not to follow her down. He uses his newfound skills to kiss her face, her mouth, and her neck, and he caresses her with the same light touches that made her start squirming last night. Working his way down her chest, he appreciates the sight of her breasts in the natural light of day and then explores the tip of each one with his mouth.

Once she starts wiggling around and getting handsy with his hair, he feels confident that it's time to get to work on her pudendal nerve. Amy makes it obvious for him when he is getting things right, panting and thrusting her hips towards his hand. It seems prudent to make sure that she reaches orgasm before they attempt intercourse. His research has been quite clear that a woman's first experience with penetration doesn't always go well, and he can't stand the idea that she might end up disappointed.

He kisses her mouth while he stimulates her with his fingers, and he can feel her little fingernails start digging into his shoulders. A short time later she groans into his open mouth, and it seems like every muscle in her body tenses and relaxes as she finishes.

If he could have kept himself from grinding his pelvis against her thigh, if he could stop imagining the squeezing pull on his fingers happening to a different appendage, and if he could make himself stop staring at the look of relaxed pleasure on her face, then maybe it would be possible to make himself slow down. He can't. The hindbrain wants what the hindbrain wants.

The only thing he can do is roll away from her and start dragging his underwear down his legs. Next to him, Amy is still breathing hard, but she turns on her side to face him. He watches the way her eyes widen and how she briefly licks her lips when she looks down to where he has finished undressing.

He clears his throat so that he can try to speak, but he can only manage a few short sentences. "You wanted me to lead first yesterday. Right now I want you to."

"How?"

"However you want."

She blows out a sharp breath and agrees. "Okay."

While eyeing the length of his body, she gets up onto her knees. Perhaps it would be a good idea to tell her one other important thing.

"Um, just… soon, please."

Without hesitation, she crosses one knee over his body to straddle his hips, and he is left with no option but to close his eyes. He hopes that she will understand why he can't watch her do this. A man can only take so many stimuli at once.

Her soft hands brush across his abdomen, and he pathetically whispers, "Sooner."

Amy giggles, but more importantly, he can feel her very wet hand wrapping around his penis. The sensation makes him squeak, an embarrassing sound, but at least it doesn't deter her. Curious about why her hand is so wet, he chances a quick glance. Of course. She made use of her own abundant moisture. He sees her do it a second time, reaching down between her legs and then rubbing the shiny substance she retrieves onto him.

Having seen far too much, he slams his eyes closed a second time and is reduced to begging. "Much, much sooner."

At his words, she lifts up, and he feels the hot sensation of her body at his tip. His breath catches in his throat while hers does the opposite, blowing out in a long exhale as she starts pressing him into her. After only a few inches, she stops and leans her body down onto his torso. Her breasts are soft against him, and her breathing is hot on his neck.

She whispers into his ear, "Sheldon, open your eyes."

His eyes snap open at her command. He couldn't possibly disobey because he can't think beyond the intense desire to shove his hips up into her. It takes his full concentration to hold back while instinct screams at him to move. Once he is looking at her, she smiles and finishes sliding down onto him. Her eyes grow wide as she does it, but he only has the briefest thought of how this must be for her before his own senses assault him. _Jesus._

Sheldon is not a religious man. This experience, however, is transcendent. It is beyond anything that he expected, and they have barely even begun. Amy freezes once he is in her as far as he can go. Once again, he can't fight the urge to close his eyes against the rush of sensation, and for reasons unknown to him, his mind continues to churn out exclamations to deities that he does not believe in.

 _Yahweh. Abba. Jehovah. Allah…_ His subconscious blasphemes away while his fingers dig into the soft skin of her thighs.

 _Vishnu. Shiva. Brahma. Shakti…_ Amy slides her hands through his hair and kisses him gently on the lips. He feels her soft mouth slide across his cheek and brush his ear as she whispers a question. "Sheldon, are you ready for me to move?"

He jerks his head in the negative. If she does that, this will all be over. He wants to explain to her why moving is not yet an option, but he can only groan out nonsense while his brain keeps uselessly sputtering.

 _Odin. Zeus. Jupiter. Ra…_

Down below, Amy wriggles her hips a tiny bit, and the simple movement makes him gasp and grab her rear end. His eyes open wide at the stimulus, and his mind breaks out of its odd chanting.

Above him, Amy's cheeks are flushed pink and her hair is a glorious mess. On her nose, the frame of her glasses rests slightly askew. He stretches his hand up to straighten them for her, not wanting her to miss seeing a thing. Concentrating on her face is proving to be a useful distraction. He feels able to ignore the persistent, greedy rush in his groin enough to attempt moving now.

Unsure of what to do, his first nudge upward is hesitant. Amy is just as new to this, and she begins to move her hips up and down in a slow, careful motion. Sheldon automatically thrusts up to meet each one of her downward motions, which seems like the natural thing to do. She grunts every time he does it, and the eager sound is tremendously reassuring.

In a slow and steady fashion, they work into a stronger rhythm. His body still seems desperate to embarrass him, but Sheldon finds that he can stave it off by continuing to focus on the details of her face. There's the sharp arch of her eyebrows, the perfect straightness of her teeth, the peculiar, yet alluring shape of her nose. He stretches his neck to place a quick kiss on its bend.

Amy stretches too, meeting his mouth with hers in an intense kiss. When she breaks away, she pushes against his shoulders, sitting up against him with her hands on his torso for balance. This forms a new, acute angle where they meet, and he can't stop himself from pressing up harder inside of her. She gasps at the increased pressure, but he recognizes the sound as the one she makes in response to a pleasurable sensation.

He has been trying to resist, trying to let her move as she chooses, but he suddenly finds himself grabbing hold of her hips and pulling her down harder. His mind starts reeling again. _God. Elohim. Adonai…_

A man on a mission, Sheldon forces the fog to clear enough that he can release his hold on her hips. It isn't easy. In order to do so, he focuses on Amy's body again and returns his hand to its previous journey. He reaches the softness of her breasts, the smooth, gentle roundness of her belly, and the flared, feminine curve of her hips.

Finally his eyes land on the site where they are joined. He is glad that he was able to tamp down the lust well enough that he did not have to deny himself this particular vision. He can't make himself look away now as he watches his body sliding into hers and then back out again. Over and over, it is a mesmerizing sight.

He shifts his hand just below her belly button and presses down gently. Her lower abdominal muscles feel hard, stiffened by her efforts, and in his mind's eye, he pictures just how far into her body he must be going. He could swear he feels himself grow even larger at the thought, and he pushes even more firmly up into her.

Amy cries out again, but from the way her body tightens it's grip on him and the familiar tone of her voice, he knows that it is still pleasure and not pain. Her breathing has grown ragged and she growls his name, "Sheldon…"

He wasn't expecting it, but it appears that she is almost there again. Unfortunately, he doesn't think that he can hold back much longer. She takes his hand and not-so-gently reminds him of where he ought to be moving it.

Sheldon is more than happy to oblige, and to his relief, he finds that trying to coordinate his hand and his hips is just the final distraction he needs. It is also precisely the stimulus that Amy must need, because he hears her gasps increase in frequency. She flops back down onto his chest leaving his hand squeezed awkwardly between them. He feels like he might sprain his wrist like this, but he doesn't even consider moving away from where she needs him.

His height makes it impossible for him to reach her lips without stretching, but this is Amy, and he will contort himself in any way for her. She runs her hands through his hair and her final cries of pleasure reverberate through his mouth while they kiss. Her entire body stiffens as she climaxes, causing her fingers to curl up, and he suspects that she may have taken a few tufts of his hair with her. That's okay. She's more than worth it.

Their movements have slowed, and it allows him to enjoy the lingering, pulsing squeezes of her body around his. When her eyes are able to focus again, she looks at him with astonishment. Sheldon has never felt so powerful in his life.

Then, he watches as a smile grows on her face. It is the biggest, happiest look he has seen from her yet, and it is this final stimulus that pushes him to the unstoppable edge.

He kisses her sloppily and resumes thrusting up into her in an equally awkward fashion. The desperate, burning need is back, and Sheldon has no intention of stifling it for a second longer, not that he even could if he tried. He no longer fights the urge to grab her hips at this point either.

It would be almost scary in its intensity if he weren't experiencing it with Amy. With her, there is nothing but pleasure and the sight of her satisfied grin that borders on laughter. His mind clears as he finally lets himself go.

This time there are no deities flitting through his mind. All there is now is _Amy. Amy. Amy._

She presses a soft kiss to his lips, and they slow their breathing together in a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs. Eventually, she slides off of him to lie sideways, half of her body still draped across his, and she leaves one arm wrapped around his midsection, squeezing him from time to time in a one-armed hug.

It takes time to regain control of his higher brain functions, but once he can think clearly again, he starts to feel like he should say something meaningful after an experience like that. If there's an exact right thing to say, though, he has no clue what it would be. He decides to simply go for the first thing that comes to mind.

"I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I enjoyed that even more that I thought I would."

Amy is still smiling, and she squeezes him yet again. "Me too."

Sheldon returns her grin as well as her hug. "And I look forward to tonight when we do it again."

He briefly wonders if that was too presumptuous, but her response comes strong and sure. "That works for me."

* * *

End.

* * *

Note: I'm sad to have hit the end, but that's all I've got. I hope you enjoyed the pot o' smut at the end of the plot rainbow!

Many thanks again to QBMaja for going over all of these chapters in advance. Reading through over 100k words was no small feat, and her helpful comments made this a better story, for sure.

Categorizing and summarizing this behemoth was quite a challenge since it kind of ran the full gamut of drama, humor, suspense, and romance. I know it was a long, strange journey, but even after all of the events in this story, I like to think that the fundamental traits of the characters were left largely unchanged, or at least I hope so.

Thanks to all of you who made it through to the end. I'm always interested to know what readers think, so if you feel like commenting, I'd be happy to hear from you.


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